Of Wizards and Duelists
by XO'MagickMoon'OX
Summary: What happens when Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik get accepted into Hogwarts? Adventure and romance ensue! [YAOI]
1. The Letters

**Of Wizards and Duelists …**

_XO'MagickMoon'OX_

**A/N: **This is a YGO/HP crossover that takes place in the fifth year of Hogwarts. It probably won't have anything to do with the _Order of the Phoenix_, as I'm only half-way through that book. So, enjoy!

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**:-In the Turtle Game Shop-:**

"Hey, Yami, what do you think of this letter?" Yuugi glanced inquisitively at the spirit peering over his shoulder.

The hazy form of his yami shrugged. "'School of Witchcraft and Wizardry', eh? Sounds like some sort of trick to me."

"You mean like a prank?" Yuugi asked. The Pharaoh nodded.

"Well, I don't know. I mean, it sounds pretty serious to me. Why would someone send us a prank, anyway?"

The Pharaoh mentally flashed on Bakura, before he shrugged again. He leaned his phantom form on Yuugi's back, one arm slung around his aibou's shoulder, as his eyes skimmed over the letter again. "It says that the school's in England … we don't speak English. Even if we wanted to go, we wouldn't understand anyone."

"Well," said Yuugi, reaching around his yami to grab the envelope and pull out another piece of parchment, "this 'Dumbledore' character sent us a spell."

The Pharaoh's eyes brightened. "Spell?"

"Yeah." Yuugi looked over the paper, carefully reading the inky scrawl. "It's called the 'Breaking the Language Barrier' spell. It's supposed to enable us to speak English, once cast correctly."

The Pharaoh thought for a minute, detaching himself from Yuugi and going to pace across the room. "Well, do you want to go to this … this magick school?" he asked, still uncertain that there was such a place as _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_. "We'd have to fly to England –"

"The letter said they'd send someone to pick us up and take us to the train station," Yuugi interrupted, turning back to the letter. "Something about a 'portkey' … whatever that is."

"Well, even if we get to this school … we don't know anything about their kind of magick. I didn't see anything written there about Millennium Items or Shadow Magick."

"That's why it's a school," Yuugi pointed out. "We're supposed to _learn_. Maybe they'll teach us their kind of magick. If we have the ability already to use Shadow Magick, I'm sure we could learn to do their sort of magick, too. It says here that they want to help us 'advanced our special abilities and learn more about the Wizarding World."

The other shook his spectral head, tri-colored spikes shifting. "It's for an entire year, Yuugi. Did your grandfather say it was okay?"

"Grandpa seemed fine with it when I asked him a little while ago," Yuugi responded.

"And what about next year? If it's a school, then there has to be more than one year."

"Well, we can decide what to do when it comes to that. Maybe we'll want to return next year." Yuugi turned back to the letter. "It says here that we'd start school as 'fifth-year students', even though technically we should be 'seventh-year students'. The seventh year is apparently the last, and we're not quite at that level yet. And, it also says that we're too advanced to start as 'first-year students', or even 'fourth-year students'. So, they're placing us in with the 'fifth-years'."

The Pharaoh frowned. The whole thing still seemed suspicious. I mean, come _on_. A school for wizards? Who'd ever heard of such a thing?

But Yuugi seemed to have his heart set on going. Who was the Pharaoh to deny his desire? And anyway, how bad could such a school be?

He sighed. "When do we leave?"

Yuugi smiled. "September first."

---

**:-At The Train Station-:**

Yuugi hauled his trunk behind him. It was filled with his clothes, along with school robes the wizard who'd picked him up had supplied. The wizard had also given Yuugi the books he would need that year. His yami's spirit was gliding along beside him, temporarily free from the Puzzle. To everyone but Yuugi, the Pharaoh was invisible.

The station had a busy, muggy atmosphere, smelling of oil and sweat. Yuugi looked back down at the letter. "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," he read. "There's no such thing!"

He looked up. The Pharaoh did, too. He saw Platform Nine and Platform Ten, but no Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

"What should we do?" he asked his distressed aibou.

"Oh, I don't know." Yuugi put his trunk down against the wall where the sign for Platform Nine was posted and sat on top of it. "I'm so confused."

"Yuugi!"

Both the Pharaoh and Yuugi looked up. To their great and pleasant surprise, they saw a fragile-looking, white-haired boy hurrying towards them with a trunk of his own, struggling through the sea of people crowding the station.

"Hey!" Yuugi grinned, jumping off his trunk. "It's Ryou!"

Finally Ryou reached his friend and doubled over, catching his breath. He dropped his trunk beside him as he straightened and looked at Yuugi, smiling his usual smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, we're looking for a nonexistent platform," Yuugi said downheartedly.

"We?" Ryou asked. "Oh! You mean you and the Pharaoh."

Yuugi nodded.

"Wait … 'a nonexistent platform' … you mean Platform Nine and Three-Quarters?" Ryou inquired.

Yuugi brightened. "You too? Did you get that letter?"

Ryou smiled. "Yeah. Bakura was trying to convince me there was no such place as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but what can I say? I was curious. And when that man came and picked me up, I was sure it wasn't a hoax." Then he thought for a moment before saying, "So, you can speak English now, I presume?"

Yuugi nodded. "Yeah. Yami and I cast that language spell a few days ago. And it works, too! But, you've always been able to speak English, haven't you, Ryou?"

In plain English, the white-haired boy responded, "Of course."

Yuugi laughed, and then started speaking English himself. "You know, your accent doesn't sound as strange in English. You sound just like everyone else here."

_I hate your accent, no matter what damn language you're speaking. _

Ryou groaned. _Koe, what do you want?_

_I feel left out …_

_Koe … please … not now …_

"Nnng …" Ryou groaned. The Millennium Ring around his neck began to glow ominously. Ryou felt his knees buckle as a searing pain tore through his body before he was forced from his own mind by none other than his yami, Bakura.

"Ryou," Yuugi said, "are you all right?"

'Ryou' laughed. His voice was deep and dripping with a false sweetness that was more like venom than sugar.

Yuugi frowned. "Bakura." Then, Yuugi's own Millennium Item began to glow as the Pharaoh took control of his body.

"Heh." Bakura smirked. "Hello … Pharaoh."

The Pharaoh grimaced, arms folded across his chest. "Thief."

Bakura sniggered. "Oh, that's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"Shut your mouth, Bakura," the Pharaoh spat. "Give Ryou his body back."

Bakura put a finger to his chin, as if considering the demand. "No."

"Bakura …" The Pharaoh's voice held a threatening tone. He hadn't forgotten the way Bakura had abused Ryou's body back in Battle City. No doubt he made Ryou's life a living hell at all times.

---

Meanwhile, a motorcycle pulled into a parking space outside the train station. Two people jumped off, removing their helmets and placing them on the bike. Both were lean and tan, with strange garb, golden accessories, and their eyes outlined heavily in black. The woman – the taller of the two – pulled her white veil self-consciously further over her ebony tresses. She was wearing a matching white dress, hemmed in gold, with sandals on her feet. The other, her younger brother, simply adjusted the golden bands around his biceps, wrists, and neck. Also adorning his slim body was a pale-purple, hooded vest and trim black pants, dark boots on his feet. His blonde hair contrasted considerably against his suntanned skin, falling around his shoulders.

The blonde pulled a small trunk strapped to his motorcycle to his side and started into the station.

"Malik!" the woman called after him. "Are you sure you know where you're going?" She ran to catch up with him.

"Isis, I told you. The letter said Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."

His sister nodded.

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When Malik and Isis reached Platform Nine, the sight they were met with was both startling and amusing. One guard was holding back a struggling 'Ryou', another gripping 'Yuugi's' arms tightly. The two boys seemed to be trying to jump at each other. As the two Egyptians neared the scene, they heard their native tongue punctuating the air, one voice unmistakably the Pharaoh's, the other belonging to the self-proclaimed Thief King, Bakura.

Isis sped up, forcing her way through the crowd that had gathered around the spectacle. Spoken in ancient Egyptian, she heard the Pharaoh shouting, "You filthy rat, I should have had you executed ages ago!" He struggled against his captor, a blue-clad, burly station guard.

"Only problem, Pharaoh: you could never catch me! You're too much of a fool to ever even come close to it!" Bakura looked like he was about to sink his fangs into the arm of the guard holding him before Isis interrupted, her Egyptian ringing out above their arguing.

"Pharaoh! Bakura! Stop this at once!"

The two turned to her in surprise and immediately stopped struggling. But, once Bakura realized who had spoken, he began wriggling again, and this time gained his freedom from the guard, who was also stunned by the interruption. In fact, the whole area around them had fallen silent, save for the whispers and murmurs from the spectators. Malik came up beside his sister, arms folded.

Bakura was now standing in the middle of the ring of people, his arms also folded, the Pharaoh watching him warily. The Pharaoh pulled free from his captor and stood, waiting to see what would happen next.

Isis turned to the guards and, in English, said, "I'm sorry for my friends' behavior."

The guards nodded, and the crowd dissipated.

"Friend?" Bakura snarled. "Don't flatter yourself, tomb keeper." He brushed a stray lock of snowy hair behind his shoulder and huffed. "You guys are no fun." The Ring began to glow again, and moments later, Ryou was back in his body, staggering wearily.

The Pharaoh caught the disoriented boy and helped him to stand as he gathered his senses.

"I'm … sorry, on behalf my yami," he mumbled.

"Don't be," Isis said soothingly. "It's not your fault."

Ryou didn't look so convinced.

Soon Yuugi, too, was back in his body. The Pharaoh's spirit was sitting on Yuugi's trunk, and Bakura's spirit was leaning against the wall, invisible to everyone except Ryou.

"Isis," Yuugi said, "when'd you learn to speak English? Last I checked you could only speak Egyptian and Japanese."

"Oh, my brother," Isis motioned towards Malik, "got a letter from someone named Albus Dumbledore, inviting him to attend some magick school. They sent him a spell to use on us to enable us to speak English."

Yuugi glanced over at the blonde. "_You _got the letter, too?"

"Yeah. I'm guessing you and Ryou got one as well."

Ryou nodded. "We just don't know where the platform is."

Malik shrugged. He looked up at the sign that said "PLATFORM 9" and then the sign that said "PLATFORM 10". There was nothing but a square, stone pillar in between the two. He went to lean on the pillar to think.

As he leaned back against the cold stone, he suddenly fell through the column. "WHAT THE –" The rest of his words were lost as he stumbled, seemingly, inside the stone pillar.

Yuugi, Ryou, and Isis just stared for a moment at the spot where Malik used to be, their minds trying to register what had just happened. They exchanged bemused glances. Then Isis picked up her brother's trunk and took a tentative step towards the pillar before stepping through the stone. Yuugi and Ryou followed suit.

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Pretty, pretty please REVIEW! This is **TBC**, unless you all hated it, in which case I will stop and permanently remove this monstrosity of a story from cyber-space. ... Again ... PLEASE REVIEW!

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	2. On The Train

**Of Wizards and Duelists …**

_XO'MagickMoon'OX_

**A/N: **I want to thank everyone who's reviewed my story so far. –huggles- Thanks a bunch! And, let me tell everyone now that **there _is_ a little dialogue in here _straight out of_ the OotP, so remember that I did not make that dialogue up**. It is all from J. K. Rowling's brilliant mind, not mine. Enjoy!

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The large, red and black train whistled, steam billowing out from the pipe at the top. The platform – Platform Nine and Three-Quarters – was crowded with people, children and adults alike, all with trunks and animal cages, some with books tucked under their arms, what looked like sticks grasped in their hands. Malik, Isis, Yuugi, and Ryou just stared in awe at the platform, at the Hogwarts Express, and at the strange mass of people darting to and fro.

"Quick, quick," a woman near them said. The group turned to see an even larger group huddled together, gathering their things. There were three men, one with an abnormally large, electric-blue eye and half a nose, and two women. The adults were crowding around six children and a big, black dog, saying their goodbyes. The woman who had spoken – a portly, auburn-haired lady – was hugging a redheaded boy. Then she went to hug what looked like the boy's younger sister, as she had the same fiery hair, same freckled features. "Write … Be good … If you've forgotten anything we'll send it on …" Next the woman hugged two identical, red-haired boys, who looked to be the older brothers. And then the woman went to embrace a raven-haired, bespectacled boy, followed by a bushy-haired girl, and then back to the raven-haired boy. Then, she said, "Onto the train, now, hurry …"

As the children went to move towards the train, the rather large, scraggly, black dog jumped up on its hind legs and pressed its paws against the raven-haired boy's chest, as if to hug him goodbye.

The woman hissed, "For heaven's sake act more like a dog, Sirius!"

Then the group jumped on the train. Malik, Ryou, and Yuugi took that as their cue to do the same.

"Goodbye Malik." Isis hugged her little brother tightly. "Don't get into any trouble," she whispered in his ear.

He laughed dryly. "Now, why would you say something like that?" He hugged her back. "Bye, sis."

Then the three boys grabbed their trunks and hopped aboard just as the final whistle sounded. They found themselves standing behind the group of kids that had just been saying goodbye to the portly woman.

"He shouldn't have come with us," the bushy-haired girl was saying in a hushed tone, though not quiet enough for the three behind her to not hear.

"Oh lighten up, he hasn't seen daylight for months, poor bloke," the redheaded boy responded, frowning at the girl.

One of the twins clapped his hands together excitedly. "Well, can't stand around chatting all day, we've got business to discuss with Lee. See you later." He took his twin brother by the arm and led him down the train away from their friends.

Ryou swayed as the train began to pick up speed. The trio hurried into the nearest compartment and set down their things.

"Well, this is turning out to be very interesting," said Yuugi.

Malik rolled his violet eyes. "If by 'interesting' you mean 'totally bizarre', then yes, it is _very _interesting."

"Well," Yuugi spoke again, "how about a game of Duel Monsters to pass the time. Looks like we're going to be here for a while."

"All right," Malik agreed. Ryou shied away.

"What's the matter, Ryou?" Yuugi asked worriedly.

"I … I just don't think it's a good idea for me to participate, what with Bakura and all. I don't want him opening some portal to the Shadow Realm here on the train!" He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head.

_Aw, come on! That sounds like fun! _Bakura whined through his and Ryou's mind-link.

_Quiet, you._

_Don't you talk back to me_, Bakura growled, as if chastising a five-year old.

Yuugi was speaking again. "All right, Ryou. You do what you think is best."

Yuugi pulled his deck from a pocket in his blue jacket, which he then pulled off, leaving him in nothing but his black tank top and blue jeans, adorned with the usual chains and buckles.

"Now, Yuugi," Malik said, "this is strictly between you and me, right? No Pharaoh or Shadow Magick or anything; just a friendly game." He couldn't hide the slight concern in his voice as he said "Shadow Magick". The last time he'd combined that and Duel Monsters, he'd nearly destroyed himself.

Yuugi nodded. "Of course."

_Dammit_, the Pharaoh hissed. He'd been _so _looking forward to a little game.

_Oh, come on now, Yami. You can duel later._

_Promise?_

_Promise._

Yuugi and Malik sat down in the middle of the compartment and started their game. Ryou laid down on one of the seats and rolled over on his side, trying to ignore the pain welling in his head.

_I wanted to play! _Bakura was still whining.

_I can't trust you, Koe_, Ryou said.

Bakura sighed mentally. _Really, none of you are any fun._

_Oh, we're fun enough for ourselves. It's just, our sense of "fun" doesn't involve banishing people to the Shadow Realm or trying to gain absolute power._

… _You're no fun._

Ryou sighed. This was going to be a long train ride.

---

Harry sat in his compartment with Neville, Ginny, and Luna Lovegood, staring blankly out the window. Ron and Hermione were prefects, and they were off attending to their little prefect duties. They'd be back soon, but "soon" wasn't soon enough for Harry. He fingered a Pumpkin Pasty wrapper as he watched the world whiz by.

Still distressed over the whole embarrassing incident with Cho Chang, he wasn't in the greatest of moods. Why did Neville have to go and poke that damn cactus, anyway? _Ah, don't blame Neville_, he thought. _He was just being Neville. _

He then turned his emerald gaze down at a Chocolate Frog card he'd gotten from his candy. It had a picture of Dumbledore on it, smiling cheerily up at him. Dumbledore … Though Harry was still a little peeved by his none-too-pleasant summer experiences, he was finding it harder and harder to stay angry at the wise Headmaster. He couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts. He missed its familiar corridors, the grand meals in the Great Hall, all his favorite teachers … like Hagrid. He missed Hagrid and was just itching to see the loveable half-giant again.

Harry sighed. Already he found his spirits lifting. It seemed that each mile closer they were to Hogwarts, the happier he became.

Now if only Ron and Hermione would hurry up …

---

"Hah!" Malik laughed. "Take that, you damned Dark Magician."

Bakura's spirit was sitting on Ryou's stomach as the white-haired boy gazed unseeingly at the ceiling. The thief rolled his eyes at Malik's enthusiasm.

"Doesn't he know he's losing by two hundred points?" he muttered derisively.

"You can't really tell who has the upper hand in the middle of a game," Ryou reminded.

Yuugi looked up at the boy. Though he couldn't have heard Bakura speak, he heard Ryou. After a moment's speculation, he figured that Ryou was talking to his yami. He smiled and continued on with the game. Funny how, to them, it was perfectly normal to appear to be talking to yourself. Anyone else outside of their circle of friends would simply deem Ryou insane.

Then, there came a knock at their compartment door.

Yuugi looked at the door. "Yes?" he answered as he drew another card.

The door slid open to reveal the freckle-faced, redheaded boy from before. "Hello there," he greeted with a smile.

"Hey!" Yuugi returned the smile.

The boy stepped into the roomy compartment. "I'm Ronald Weasley, Gryffindor prefect." He extended his hand to Yuugi.

"I'm Yuugi Mutou." The tri-color-haired boy stood and shook Ron's hand.

Ron looked around the compartment, from Ryou to Malik and back to Yuugi. "I've never seen you lot 'round here before. You new?"

"Yeah," Yuugi answered cheerily.

Ron grinned. "Ah, first-years?"

Yuugi shook his head. "No, we're … er … fifth-years."

The redhead looked stunned. "But, I thought you said you were new."

"We are."

"Then …" A look of vague comprehension dawned on Ron's freckled face. "Oh, you must be transfers. What school did you come from?"

"Domino High," Yuugi answered naively.

"I've … never heard of that school. Where's it at?"

"Domino, Japan."

"Japan?" Ron looked completely bemused now. "I had no idea there was a wizarding school in Japan."

"Oh, there isn't."

Ron blinked, taking a deep breath. "You've completely lost me, mate."

Malik got up. Standing next to Yugi, he was a good two heads taller than the boy. He smiled. "Let me try. We're from Domino, Japan. We received letters from … Albus Dumbledore, I think was the name. He invited us to attend Hogwarts, telling us we were 'gifted' or something like that. He told us that, even though it was our first year, we'd start as fifth-years."

"Oh," Ron said. "I get it. So, are you all fifteen? Is that why you're starting as fifth-years?"

Yuugi shook his head. "No, Ryou and I are seventeen, and Malik here's sixteen. But, the letter said that we weren't advanced enough to start as seventh-years, and we were too advanced to be first-, second-, third-, or fourth-years. So, he made us fifth-years."

"Wow, all right. I get it now. Though, I've never heard of anyone starting right at the fifth year. You lot must be pretty good." Ron smiled again. "Hey, you wanna come over to our compartment? I was just going to meet up with my friends."

Yuugi nodded. "Sure!"

"Yuugi, wait," Malik said. "What about our game?"

The smaller boy grinned impishly. "Ah, you were losing anyway."

Bakura sniggered. "Told ya."

Ryou rolled his eyes. "Just get off of my stomach so we can follow the others."

"And what if I don't want to get off?" Bakura crossed his arms.

"Koe!" Ryou gasped. "Why are you so cruel?"

Ron watched the white-haired boy carefully. "Hey, is that guy talking to himself?"

Yuugi looked over at Ryou who was struggling underneath an invisible Bakura. "Oh no, he's just …" He paused. How was he supposed to explain this? Yuugi sighed wearily. "Hey, Ryou!"

Ryou craned his neck to look over at his friends.

"Bakura trouble?" Yuugi chuckled. "That no-good, underhanded, lame excuse for a thief …"

Bakura grew livid. "WHY YOU –!" He jumped up, unintentionally freeing his captive. Ryou scrambled to his feet. Bakura huffed, as it dawned on him why Yuugi had been insulting him.

"Thanks Yuugi," Ryou murmured.

"No problem."

Ron was still watching the white-haired boy warily, but said nothing more on the matter.

Malik went to gather up his cards. Yuugi did the same.

"Yuugi, I want a rematch later," Malik said.

Yuugi chuckled. "Sure thing." The boys pocketed their decks.

"This way, mates." Ron led them from the compartment.

They went a little ways down the hallway before they stopped in front of another compartment.

"Ron!"

Ron looked up to see the bushy-haired girl heading towards him. In her arms she was carrying a ginger cat, who was watching the three strangers standing behind Ron with golden, luminescent eyes.

"Hey Hermione! We have some newcomers," he motioned to the three behind him as he slid the compartment door open.

"Hello," Hermione greeted. "I'm Hermione, the other Gryffindor prefect, as I'm sure Ron's already told you he's one, too. Are you three first-years?"

They shook their heads.

Malik sighed. "Here we go again."

"I'll explain inside, Hermione," Ron said. "Harry ought to hear it, too."

Ron froze, half-expecting the three behind him to jump at the mere mention of Harry, but they remained silent, waiting to follow the redhead inside. He mentally shrugged and stepped into the compartment.

He was surprised to find Neville and … who was that girl? Luna Lovegood? yeah, that's her … sitting with Ginny and Harry. Harry smiled at the sight of Ron and Hermione. He scooted over on his seat closer to the window to make room for his friends. Ryou sat down tentatively next to Ginny, who was seated beside Luna. Across from them sat Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville. Yuugi sat down next to Ryou and then Malik found a place on the floor in front of Yuugi.

"Who're these three?" Harry asked politely.

"Oh, I'm Yuugi Mutou." Yuugi grinned.

"Ryou Bakura," Ryou said in his timid voice.

"Malik Ishtar," the blonde finished coolly.

Ron turned to his friends. "They're new … but … they're not first-years." Upon receiving inquisitive looks from Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny (Luna was quietly watching everyone from over the edge of her magazine), he explained what Yuugi and Malik had told him.

"Wow, so you're all from Japan?" Hermione asked with great interest after Ron had finished his explanation.

"I'm actually from Egypt," Malik said. "I had to study Japanese when I was younger so that when I got older I could travel to Japan where my family learned that the Phar – OW!" Malik rubbed his shoulder where Yuugi had just kicked him. He looked up to see the small boy shaking his head.

"What was that?" Hermione looked from Yuugi to Malik, oblivious to the silent exchange that had just passed between them.

"Oh … uh … I was saying that I … I'm from Egypt, but I've spent the last year in Japan," Malik responded, careful to leave out any information involving the Pharaoh. How were they supposed to explain everything to these people? All about the Millennium Items and the Shadow Realm and their destinies? It was all too complicated.

"How is that you speak English so well?" Hermione asked.

Yuugi chuckled. "We were sent a spell called 'Breaking the Language Barrier'."

Hermione grinned. "Oh, I've heard of that."

"Of course _you _have," Ron said as he tore open a Chocolate Frog wrapper.

The bushy-haired girl glared at him.

"So, umm …" Yuugi started. "What are these stick things that everyone's carrying around?"

Ron nearly choked on his chocolate. Everyone else just gave the boy incredulous looks.

"You mean our wands?" came a quiet, dreamy voice.

Everyone in the compartment turned to stare at Luna. She had rolled up her magazine and was now holding it in her lap.

"Er … yeah." Yuugi answered. "What are they? … What are they for?"

"You mean you don't have one?" Ginny asked.

Malik frowned bemusedly. "No … the letter never said anything about wands."

"Our wands are the tools that channel our magick," Hermione explained. "Without them, we're pretty much powerless."

"How did Dumbledore expect you lot to do magick without wands?" Ron wondered.

"Well … we've never needed wands before to do magick," Yuugi said. "Though, we've never really done your sort of magick. I suppose that's what we're here to learn."

"I'm sure Dumbledore will sort it all out when we get to school," Hermione said dismissively.

"Yeah," Harry agreed half-heartedly.

"Hey, you over there," Ron said, gesturing towards Ryou. "Why are you so quiet?"

Ryou looked startled for a moment before blushing and looking down at his hands. "Oh, I … don't have much to say," he answered.

_Come on, Yadonushi, be more social! _Bakura jeered. _Don't make me take control._

_Koe, please … just leave me alone …_

_Oh, now that's no fun. Didn't we have this discussion already? You are positively the most _boring _yadonushi anyone could ever ask for. Why, if it weren't for me, nothing interesting would ever happen in your life._

Ryou flashed briefly on his experiences in Battle City, a storm of fear and contempt stirring in his gut. He remembered Bakura taking control of his body and siding with Malik, who, at the time, had been under the influence of his own yami. He remembered Bakura impaling his arm with a knife, and then pushing him into strenuous situations he was unfit to handle.

_Oh come on, admit it: it was exciting, _Bakura said after seeing Ryou's flashback through their mind-link.

_No … it really wasn't –_

"Ryou?"

Ryou jumped and looked over at Yuugi, he was watching him worriedly.

"Is everything all right?" the smaller boy asked.

Ryou smiled sadly. "Yeah."

Yuugi nodded, unconvinced.

That was when the compartment door slid open. Everyone looked up. Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik could feel the atmosphere tense, though they weren't exactly sure why, as a slight, blonde-haired boy smirked at them from the doorway, two larger boys standing behind him.

"What do you want?" Harry snapped at the boy.

The boy sniggered. He seemed about ready to retort when his silver eyes fell upon the three strangers. "And who do we have here?" His voice was cool and smooth, but held a venomous air.

"Hi!" Yuugi chirped. "I'm Yuugi Mutou."

"I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco introduced himself. He watched Yuugi carefully, as if expecting some reaction at the sound of his name. When none came, he frowned. Then, he said, "Son of Lucius Malfoy …?"

Yuugi nodded. "That's nice."

"'Nice'?" Ron gasped. "Lucius Malfoy is a slimy git. And let's say, 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree'," he said, smirking at the blonde-haired boy.

"Watch it Weasel," Malfoy jibed. "You may be a prefect, but so am I. I'm sure insulting someone's parents calls for some disciplinary action."

"Your father's a bloody Death Eater," Harry said harshly, glaring daggers at Draco.

Hermione watched Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik carefully, as if expecting them to gasp at the accusation. But they remained calm and nonchalant. Hermione frowned. "You guys _do _know what a Death Eater is, don't you?"

The trio shook their heads.

The entire compartment seemed to freeze, everyone somewhere between gasping and laughing, some horrified and bewildered, others amused. Even Draco and his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, were astonished.

Then, Draco's silvery laugh shattered the silence. "You've got to be kidding!" he cried.

Yuugi looked confused. "Why? What's a 'Death Eater'?"

"A Death Eater is a servant to the Dark Lord," Hermione explained.

That was when Ryou's Ring started to glow. "Gah!" Ryou doubled over, his eyes screwed shut.

"Ryou?" Malik looked up at the boy.

Seconds later, the Ring was back to normal, and Bakura was now in control of the white-haired boy's body.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Draco said.

"'Dark Lord', eh?" Bakura grinned, sitting back with his arms folded. "Sounds like my kind of person."

Yuugi watched the boy warily. "Bakura?" he asked.

"The one and only." Bakura brushed a stray strand of hair behind him. "Now, tell me more about this 'Dark Lord'."

Yuugi groaned and put his head in his hands. "This is not good," he mumbled.

"Oy, what's going on here?" Ron demanded. "Why was that … that _thing_ just glowing like that?"

"Was Ryou's voice always that deep?" Hermione whispered to Harry.

Harry shook his head. "And his face was never that dark, and his eyes never that sharp. Something strange is going on here."

Hermione laughed dryly. "When is something strange _not _going on here?"

"The Dark Lord?" Draco was saying. "You don't know who the Dark Lord is?"

Bakura shook his head. Draco looked confused and slightly horrified. The pale Slytherin stepped inside the cramped compartment, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle. He slid the door shut behind them.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Draco tried again. The three shook their heads. "You-Know-Who?"

"No, we don't know who. Now tell us, dammit!" Bakura growled.

"Lord Voldemort!" Harry cried exasperatedly. Everyone in the compartment, save Harry, Malik, Bakura, and Yuugi, cringed.

Bakura smiled, then chuckled, and then burst into a fit of laughter. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle stared at the hysterical white-haired boy.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Harry demanded. "Why is that funny?"

Bakura's laughter quelled to silent giggles. He met Harry's gaze squarely. "Well, you all seem to be making such a big deal out of this 'Dark Lord' character, and I just want to know how he managed to become so feared with a name like 'Voldemort'!"

"Who cares what the bloody hell his name is!" Harry shouted. "He was an insane Dark wizard who killed hundreds of people – Muggles, wizards, and creatures alike."

Bakura laughed again. "I think I like this guy."

"Bakura!" Yuugi cried.

The tomb robber shrugged. "What can I say?"

"He killed my parents!" Harry said.

"Oh." Bakura grew silent. He didn't sound particularly sorry, but rather, slightly sympathetic. "Well, what happened to the guy?"

"Ah, Harry took care of 'im," Ron answered.

Yuugi looked at Harry, who was blushing slightly. "What's he talking about?"

"My parents … they were murdered trying to save me. Then Voldemort tried to kill me, but somehow his spell backfired, and he ended up nearly dying. All I got out of it was this scar," Harry lifted his bangs to reveal the lightening bolt-shaped mark on his forehead, "and Voldemort was never seen again. I was only a baby at the time, deemed 'the Boy-Who-Lived'. Voldemort was rumored to be dead, but whether or not that was true, one thing was certain: he was gone. But, now he's back. Over the years, he's been trying to regain his strength and power, and also trying to get rid of me before he officially returns." Harry smirked. "Needless to say, he's failed so far in trying to kill me, but he has come back. I saw him … and I dueled him. But, there are few who believe me. Much of the Wizarding World thinks I'm lying about _his _return."

"That's because you're an attention-seeking prat, Potter," Draco snarled.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry retorted.

Draco sniggered. Then he turned to 'Ryou', Malik, and Yuugi. "I don't think you want to be mixing yourself up with this lot, boys. These Gryffindor gits are nothing but trouble."

"Malfoy, get out!" Hermione shouted.

With one last smirk, Malfoy slid the compartment door open and left. His cronies followed suit. Malik stood and closed the door behind them. Then he turned and leaned back against the door.

"So, this … _Voldemort_ character … he's dangerous?" the Egyptian asked.

Everyone, save Yuugi and Bakura, nodded gravely.

Malik chuckled dryly. "And I thought my yami was bad."

"Your what?" Ron asked.

Malik looked down at his feet. "Nothing."

"Well, I want to meet this guy. Sounds like a fun character," Bakura said.

"Bakura!" Yuugi cried again, just as his Puzzle started to glow.

"If you ever met Voldemort," Harry said, "you'd be dead before you could shake hands."

"Ah, that's okay. I'm already dead. It's my yadonushi that would take the hit," Bakura said dismissively. This earned him six confused and two incredulous stares.

"Bakura!" Yuugi shouted again. But this time, it wasn't Yuugi's voice. It was the deep, formidable tone of the Pharaoh. The Pharaoh jumped to his feet.

"Funny," said Neville. "I remember him being shorter."

"What's your problem?" Bakura asked the Pharaoh, slowly rising to his feet, pulling himself to his full height.

"You! You no-good tomb robber! How can you sit there and say things like that when obviously this Voldemort person is a murderer and a madman who's done terrible things?"

"'Tomb robber'?" Ron whispered to Hermione. "What're they going on about?"

Malik pushed his way between the Pharaoh and Bakura who were standing nearly nose-to-nose, heat rising dangerously between them. He tried to take control of the situation, attempting to be the voice of reason. "Pharaoh … Bakura … give Ryou and Yuugi their bodies back," he commanded sternly.

The Pharaoh huffed indignantly, but the Puzzle began to glow nonetheless, and soon Yuugi was back in his body. Bakura, surprisingly enough, did the same, muttering something like "You're all no fun" before retreating to the Ring. Ryou stumbled forward and Malik caught him around the arm, and Yuugi fell back into his seat, holding his head as if he had a headache.

"Are you guys all right?" Malik asked his friends.

Yuugi nodded, looking up and forcing a smile. "Yup."

"Never better," Ryou murmured, sinking down beside Yuugi.

Finally, order settled back into the compartment. Malik sat down in front of Yuugi again, and an awkward silence enveloped the students. Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and even Luna, were watching the trio warily. Ryou had closed his eyes and laid his head on Yuugi's shoulder, and Yuugi was staring up at the ceiling. Malik had his head in his hands, and both the Pharaoh and Bakura were sitting quietly in their respective Items.

The rest of the train ride was pretty quiet, and it wasn't long before Ryou, Yuugi, and Malik returned to their own compartment to change into their school robes. They stayed there until the Hogwarts Express pulled to a stop.

The students filed out and piled into the carriages, the first-years following Professor Grubbly-Plank to the boats.

Harry was a bit disconcerted as he settled into his carriage. Well, who wouldn't be after seeing what he just saw … those monstrous, winged-horse creatures pulling the carriages. And it didn't help that Luna admitted that she could see them, too. Did that make him just as insane as her? Not to mention, Hagrid was no where to be found. Grubbly-Plank was taking his place, for the time being, Harry hoped … not for the rest of the year.

And, what was _up_ with those new students?

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Again, this is **TBC** ... so long as I get lots of encouragement from you guys! Review please!

Oh, and if there are any particular **pairings** you'd like to see, please tell me! As of right now, I'm at a loss as to who I want to pair up.

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	3. The Sorting

**Of Wizards and Duelists …**

_XO'MagickMoon'OX_

**A/N: **Here's another disclaimer for you all: I _did_ copy the Sorting Hat's song from the OotP. Let me say that **it is J. K. Rowling's magnificent rhyme and** **not mine**. All right … I want to also thank everyone for their pairing suggestions and for just their reviews in general! Enjoy …

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"Wow!" Yuugi stared in awe at the castle looming in the distance as he poked his head out of the carriage window. "Guys! Look at this place!" With its gothic appearance, it's rising, black turrets blending in with the sky behind it, its silhouette only outlined by the light of the full moon, the windows glowing like little flames against the stone wall, Hogwarts was a sight to see.

Ryou sat quietly in the carriage with his hands in his lap, gazing blankly out the window.

"Hey Ryou," came a soft voice.

Ryou looked over to see Malik watching him worriedly. The blonde put a comforting hand on the other's shoulder, and Ryou instinctively bristled under the touch. Malik seemed taken aback as he pulled his hand away and went to staring out his window.

Ryou groaned inwardly. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did I do that? He meant it to be consoling, not awkward. Why did I stiffen like that, as if I didn't like him touching me? I'm so –_

_Pathetic? _Bakura jeered._ Honestly, all you do is ramble … it's so damn _annoying

Ryou reddened. _Well, you don't have to listen, you know. _

_Of course I do. How am I supposed to keep you under control if I don't know what you're thinking?_

_Why do you have to keep me under control?_

_Because I _own_ you. A master that lets its pet run wild isn't a very responsible master._

_I'm not your pet._

_Oh, I beg to differ._

_I'm no –_

_Shut-up!_

"Gah!" Ryou's head began to pound. He doubled over and put his head in his hands.

_Koe … _he whined.

_You see. I own you._

"Ryou, are you all right?" Yuugi asked.

The pounding grew, as if there were a jackhammer drilling into his skull. When next he opened his eyes to look at Yuugi, his eyesight was blurred. The Ring around his neck seemed unbearably heavy.

Then, he felt a strong hand grab his forearm, and he looked to his left to see Malik, again watching him, this time with increased concern. Ryou tried to force a smile, but his head felt like it would split in two with one small twitch, let alone a smile. Darkness crawled on the edge of his vision. He took a deep breath and found his lungs choked. With a final strained cough, he blacked out, and fell sideways into Malik's lap. Malik looked over at Yuugi sitting across from him, then back to Ryou.

Malik blinked down at the frail, white-haired boy, his eyes wide with fear and worry. What was wrong with Ryou? Then, a thought came to him. "If this is Bakura's doing," Malik growled, "I swear I'm going to kill that tomb robber." He blushed at his senseless words. "Or, as best I can for someone who's already dead," he amended.

Yuugi sighed. "Poor Ryou. Bakura's been nothing but trouble for him ever since he became Bakura's host. It's not fair."

Malik nodded, and his frown softened from angry to thoughtful. He stroked Ryou's head, fingers playing through the white, silky tresses. He had never noticed how pale Ryou was, or the fact that his hair was seemingly unnaturally soft. The boy looked almost … beautiful, especially with the moonlight shining through the windows gracing his features. Like some sort of angel …

The carriage screeched to a halt. Yuugi and Malik looked up. They were parked in front of the entrance to the school.

"Ryou." Malik shook the boy gently. He didn't waken. His chest rose and fell softly with each breath. "Ryou …"

Meanwhile, Bakura's spirit was sitting next to Yuugi – invisible to everyone conscious at the time – laughing his ass off. It was so much fun to play with his yadonushi like that. When would the boy realize that Bakura did, in fact, _own _him? Free will was a fairy tale; freedom, a myth.

Bakura's laughing fit quelled, and he wiped the tears in his eyes that were brought by such laughter, still grinning wildly. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, watching Malik's futile attempts to wake Ryou. The boy was out cold; he wouldn't be awake for a little while longer. Bakura looked from the young Egyptian to his yadonushi, and he grew pensive.

This situation, sitting here in the carriage, the darkness blunted by the white moonlight, reminded Bakura of the nights when he would sit at Ryou's bedside and watch him sleep.

Though Bakura would _never _admit it to anyone, there was just something about the boy when he was unconscious; the way he looked so peaceful, the way his lips would part slightly, the way his hair fell about his face … Bakura couldn't explain it exactly, but there was just something … ethereal and beautiful about Ryou then. Something that made Bakura's mind reel with memories and his stomach stir with emotion.

But … it didn't mean anything. Did it? Certainly it couldn't mean that –

"You love Ryou, don't you?"

"GAH!" Bakura jumped nearly five feet in the air. Once he'd settled himself again, gasping for breath, he turned to see who had spoken.

The Pharaoh.

He was sitting on the edge of the seat opposite Bakura, next to Ryou, his elbows propped on his knees, chin resting on his laced fingers. It was the Pharaoh's _spirit_, mind you, released from the confines of his Puzzle. The only other entities besides a spirit's host that can see it when it's not inhabiting a body are other spirits. Bakura glared at his rival.

"What?"

"You love Ryou, don't you?" the Pharaoh repeated, still watching the tomb robber with the same emotionless expression.

"What are you talking about?" Bakura snapped. "I … I do not!"

"Then why did you stammer?" the Pharaoh asked, the corner of his lip twitching into a smirk.

Bakura swore under his breath. Then, he said, "I do not love that pathetic excuse for a human!"

"Tsk tsk … I knew you were a thieving rat, but a liar, too?" The Pharaoh's smirk widened.

Bakura jumped to his feet. "Shut-up!"

"Bakura, I see right through your façade."

"What fucking façade?" Bakura shouted heatedly.

"The façade that you hide your feelings behind. The only reason you're so cruel to Ryou is because you're afraid of your own feelings; the concept of loving another being frightens you."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Bakura snapped.

"There's nothing wrong with failing in love," the Pharaoh said quietly.

"It's weak," the tomb robber spat. "Emotion … feeling … attachment … it's all weakness. Don't you know what happens to the weak, Pharaoh? They get eaten by the strong. The strong live and the weak die."

The Pharaoh's ruby eyes slid shut. "You may see love as weakness, but I see it as strength." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "But that doesn't mean I see you as strong, even if you are in love. By all means, you're still a thieving rat."

The Pharaoh then looked over at Yuugi, who was assisting Malik in trying to revive Ryou. Bakura was startled as he saw longing flicker through his eyes.

"Pharaoh?"

The tri-color-haired spirit looked up.

"Do you love Yuugi?"

The Pharaoh chuckled dryly, again closing his eyes, but said nothing.

---

"Come on, Harry," Ron called to his friend as he stepped down from the carriage and joined the crowd heading inside.

"Coming," Harry responded as he, too, jumped down and headed towards the entrance.

"Hey, guys!" Hermione gasped. "Look." They followed her gaze.

"It's … what was his name? Yuugi? Yeah … it's Yuugi," Ron said.

Sure enough, two carriages behind them, Yuugi was hopping out of his carriage looking grave. Malik followed, carrying Ryou in his strong arms. Harry, Ron, and Hermione ran up to the group as Ginny, Luna, and Neville continued on.

"What happened?" Hermione asked as they neared.

Malik huffed, turning his gaze up to the castle, leaving Yuugi to answer.

"Ah … nothing!" The small boy laughed nervously. "He … got a little motion-sick is all. "

The trio looked skeptical. Hermione placed a hand to Ryou's forehead and gasped. "He's burning up!"

Ryou groaned. Malik looked worried. Turning to Yuugi, he whispered, "That's never happened before. Fainting, sure … but fever?"

Yuugi shook his head. "I'm sure it will pass. Bakura would never go to such an extreme as permanently hurting him; he needs him for his host."

"Maybe Bakura can't control what's happening. Maybe this is beyond him and there's something really wrong with Ryou."

"All right, who's this 'Bakura' person?" Ron asked, hands on his hips. Though the two had been speaking in hushed tones, whispering is pretty useless if there are people standing less than a foot away from you.

Yuugi and Malik looked up, startled.

"No one," Yuugi squeaked.

The Ring began to glow, golden light playing across everyone's faces. Ryou stirred before opening his eyes, which were now a bright, piercing brown, devoid of their usual gentleness.

Which could only mean one thing.

"Get your hands off of my yadonushi!" Bakura hissed, jumping from Malik's arms. He swore in ancient Egyptian, smoothing his hands down his robes. He looked at the three bemused Gryffindors. "I'm Bakura," he said, answering Ron's question.

"Oh … er … I thought your name was 'Ryou'," Hermione stammered.

"It is!" Yuugi jumped in. "Ryou Bakura. 'Bakura' is his last name." Yuugi smiled and scratched the back of his head nervously.

Ron leaned in to whisper to Harry, "I don't think these three are right in the head."

Harry nodded. "There's something definitely strange about them, even by our standards."

"Yeah." Ron beamed at the trio. "Well, best get a move on. We don't want to miss the Sorting. I reckon you three will be sorted tonight, too."

Yuugi looked puzzled. "'Sorting'?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "You need to be sorted into your houses. Ah, you'll see when we get in there. Come on."

Bakura, Yuugi, Malik, Hermione, and Harry followed Ron as he headed inside. Yuugi, Bakura, and Malik hung back a little.

"Bakura," Yuugi hissed, "what did you do to Ryou?"

"Oh, calm down. He's fine. Just taking a little break in the Ring." Bakura patted his chest where the said Item hung on a brown cord.

"I mean, what did you do to him earlier, when he fainted?"

"Eh," Bakura shrugged, "he was getting a little rebellious. I had to put him in his place."

"Why you …" Malik glared daggers at the thief. If looks could kill, Bakura would've fallen dead to the ground at that second. But, the white-haired tomb robber just smirked.

"Oh-hoh! Does _someone_ have _feelings_ for my yadonushi?" Bakura mocked, though there was a certain unrecognizable bitterness in his voice as he said it.

Malik blushed, whether from anger or something else, no one could tell. "Shut-up," he snapped.

"Let me tell you now, tomb keeper, Ryou is mine. I'm not sharing him with anyone else."

Malik expected to see Bakura smirking, as if taunting him, but, even in the dim torchlight, Malik saw that the thief was serious … deadly serious. The Ring lit up again, and moments later Ryou had returned to his body. He stumbled for a second before he regained his senses and his balance. Malik went to feel Ryou's forehead, and was relieved to find his temperature back to normal.

Then, the boys reached the Great Hall. Just as they were about to follow Harry, Ron, and Hermione inside, they heard someone called them.

"Hey you three! Boys! Over here!"

They turned to see an elderly woman clad in emerald robes and a pointed witch's hat waving to them. Behind her stood a long line of anxious-looking children. Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik hurried over to her, slightly puzzled.

When they reached the woman, she said, "I'm Professor McGonagall." She had a sweet voice, like a much-loved maternal figure. Though, her sugary tone did not hide the stern, disciplinary air, and the boys knew that she was not one to mess around with. With a sweep of her arm, she motioned to the students behind her. "These are the first-years to be sorted. You are the new students from Japan, am I right?"

The trio nodded.

"Okay, now when we enter, I would like you to join the end of the line. You will be sorted last." She smiled. "We are glad to have you with us this year."

Yuugi nodded, as did Ryou and Malik, before plastering one of his trademark grins on his face.

"All right. Everyone, follow me!" Professor McGonagall led the students inside the large wooden doors.

Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik waited until the last few students had passed through the double doors before they joined. They were unprepared for the sight that met them as they entered the Hall.

It was huge, filled with students, all of whom were divided into four tables. Hundreds of candles hung suspended in the air, as if by invisible strings, lighting the Hall. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, and a thick, sweet aroma wafted around the witches and wizards. The floor in the front of the Hall was raised by a few stairs to create a platform, where there was another table at which adults were seated, obviously the teachers. The one in the center, an elderly man with a long white beard and half-moon spectacles, watched everything from where he sat, his eyes twinkling. Another teacher who sat a little ways to the right of the elder man had a sour air about him. His sleek, black hair swept his shoulders, and he looked down his hooked nose at the students with his coal-black eyes, as if scrutinizing each and every one. There was also a squat woman sitting directly on the bearded man's left. She had small, beady eyes and sagging gray skin, a mop of curly brown hair atop her head, tied up in a small black bow. She did not look like someone the boys were eager to meet any time soon. As they further observed the hall, they noticed silvery specters floating through the air, and recognized them as ghosts. But, what completely blew the trio away was the ceiling; it was an exact replica of the night sky, with the misty clouds and glittering stars … if the boys didn't know any better, they'd say the Great Hall had no roof, and they were looking straight into the heavens.

As McGonagall took them to line up at the front of the Hall, the trio could feel everyone's eyes on them, and frantic whispers followed in their wake. It wasn't just their foreign appearances that had everyone in a tizzy; as Malik passed, there were numerous excited squeals from girls at every table. Finally, they reached the platform, where the students lined up as Professor McGonagall disappeared somewhere behind one of the intricate tapestries hanging on the wall behind the teacher's table. She reappeared moments later with a stool in one hand and what looked like a tattered, old witch's hat in the other.

She placed the stool in the middle of the stage, the clunk of the wooden legs against the floorboards resounding through the near-silent Hall. Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths with quiet anticipation. To the three foreigners, McGonagall placing a hat on a stool wasn't such a big deal.

That is, until they heard the hat speak. And when it started to sing, they couldn't help but gasp.

"_In times of old when I was new_

_And Hogwarts barely started_

_The founders of our noble school_

_Thought never to be parted:_

_United by a common goal,_

_They had the selfsame yearning,_

_To make the world's best magic school_

_And pass along their learning._

'_Together we will build and teach!'_

_The four good friends decided_

_And never did they dream that they _

_Might one day be divided,_

_For were there such friends anywhere_

_As Slytherin and Gryffindor?_

_Unless it was the second pair_

_Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?_

_So how could it have gone so wrong?_

_How could such friendships fail?_

_Why, I was there and so can tell_

_The whole sad, sorry tale._

_Said Slytherin, 'We'll teach just those_

_Whose ancestry is purest.'_

_Said Ravenclaw, 'We'll teach those whose_

_Intelligence is surest.'_

_Said Gryffindor, 'We'll teach all those _

_With brave deeds to their name.'_

_Said Hufflepuff, 'I'll teach the lot, _

_And treat them just the same.'_

_These differences caused little strife_

_When first they came to light,_

_For each of the four founders had_

_A House in which they might_

_Take only those they wanted, so,_

_For instance, Slytherin_

_Took only pure-blood wizards_

_Of great cunning, just like him,_

_And only those of sharpest mind_

_Were taught by Ravenclaw_

_While the bravest and the boldest_

_Went to daring Gryffindor._

_Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest, _

_And taught them all she knew,_

_Thus the Houses and their founders_

_Retained friendships firm and true._

_So Hogwarts worked in harmony_

_For several happy years,_

_But then discord crept among us_

_Feeding on our faults and fears._

_The Houses that, like pillars four,_

_Had once held up our school,_

_Now turned upon each other and,_

_Divided, sought to rule._

_And for a while it seemed the school_

_Must meet an early end,_

_What with dueling and with fighting_

_And the clash of friend on friend_

_And at last there came a morning_

_When old Slytherin departed_

_And though the fighting then died out_

_He left us quite downhearted._

_And never since the founders four_

_Were whittled down to three_

_Have the Houses been united_

_As they once were meant to be._

_And now the Sorting Hat is here_

_And you all know the score:_

_I sort you into Houses_

_Because that is what I'm for,_

_But this year I'll go further,_

_Listen closely to my song:_

_Though condemned I am to split you_

_Still I worry that it's wrong,_

_Though I must fulfill my duty_

_And must quarter every year_

_Still I wonder whether sorting_

_May not bring the end I fear._

_Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_

_The warning history shows,_

_For our Hogwarts is in danger_

_From external, deadly foes_

_And we must unite insider her_

_Or we'll crumble from within_

_I have told you, I have warned you …_

_Let the Sorting now begin."_

The Hall broke out into applause. The trio, however, was still too shocked to act. They turned to each other with wide-eyed stares.

"That was …" Yuugi was at a loss for words.

"Bizarre," Malik finished.

"I didn't know hats could sing," Ryou murmured.

"Well, I didn't know that candles could float, or that ceilings could look like the sky outside," Yuugi added. "We're in a whole 'nother world here."

Ryou nodded. "So, what do you think that hat meant by 'know the perils, read the signs' and 'we must unite inside her or crumble from within'?"

"Well," Malik answered, "apparently, there are four Houses that students are divided into each year depending on their character, and the Sorting all started when some of the founders wanted to be selective with what students they taught. I think the Hat was saying that if the Houses don't unite, then we'll all be in danger … great danger."

Yuugi chuckled dryly. "That's nothing new for us."

"So," Ryou said quietly, "this means that we're going to be split up?"

Yuugi nodded solemnly, as if that fact had just dawned on him as well. "Most likely."

The Sorting continued, the line of first-years slowly dwindling down as they sat on the stool and put on the Hat, which then decided what House to put them in. Finally …

"Bakura, Ryou!" Professor McGonagall's sugary voice rang out.

As Ryou stepped tentatively forward, whispers and murmurs sounded throughout the Hall, points and stares aimed at the white-haired boy. Ryou sat on the stool, looking out at the other students anxiously. He hated the limelight.

Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on Ryou's head, and immediately Ryou heard its wise, grating voice in his head. He squeaked in surprise.

_Well, well boy, _the Sorting Hat said. _I think you'd do just fine in Hufflepuff … yes, that's where I'll put you. _Out loud, the Hat began to call, "HUFFLE –"

The Hat paused. _Hold on_, Ryou heard the voice again. _No, not Hufflepuff … Slytherin. Yes, sly and cunning … Slytherin. _"SLYTH –"

Again, the Hat stopped. _Boy, what is going on here? At first, you seem fit for Hufflepuff, but then I find traces of a Slytherin heart in your soul._

The Hall was silent, all whispers and murmurs, pointing and gaping ceased. They, too, were wondering what was going on.

_Well, no … yes … Hufflepuff it is. _"HUFFLE – "_ No, no … Slytherin. _"SLYTHER –"

_Boy! What is going on? _the Hat demanded. _It's like you have two hearts … two souls in one body … one that goes in Hufflepuff, and the other that goes in Slytherin. I don't know where you belong … _

Then, the Hat called, "NEXT!"

The murmurs started up again, some protests and shouts of surprise from the audience. The elderly man that sat in the center of the teacher's table stood as the nervous din increased in volume.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked gently.

"My apologies, Headmaster," the Hat said. "But this boy cannot be sorted. He has two souls in one body, and they both belong in different Houses."

The Headmaster was silent. "'Two souls' …?" he murmured. "Ah, okay. Very well then. We'll get back to him."

Professor McGonagall nodded and quieted the Hall. None of the students had heard the exchange between the Hat and Dumbledore, as they had all been too loud. As McGonagall shushed them, they silenced immediately, eager to watch what would happen next.

Professor McGonagall took the Hat from Ryou's head and told him to wait to the side. Then, she called, "Ishtar, Malik."

His black robes sweeping about his ankles, Malik stepped towards the stool and took a seat, his arms folded. The atmosphere seemed to spark with an excited electricity, most of it emanating from the girls in the Hall. McGonagall placed the Hat on Malik's head, and moments later it blurted, "RAVENCLAW!"

There was a bout of applause from the Ravenclaw table. Malik stepped down and, with a disheartened glance back at his friends, made his way to the Ravenclaw table, where he seemed to be being ushered.

"Mutou, Yuugi!"

Yuugi stepped up to the Hat and sat down on the stool. The Hat was placed on his head, and he, too, heard the Hat's voice in his head.

_Ah, you're like your friend … with two souls in one body. Except, _your _souls seem to be in agreement. _"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat announced.

The Gryffindor table began to applaud. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up in surprise, until they smiled as Yuugi made his way to his seat with the fifth-years.

"Well, Mr. Bakura. I suppose you have the choice of which House you want to be placed in," Professor McGonagall said to Ryou.

Ryou looked around, biting his lower lip nervously.

_Slytherin! _Bakura urged.

_What? Why? _

_They look like an interesting bunch._

_To _you_ maybe. I'd much rather go with either Yuugi or Malik. _

_Well, seeing so the Ravenclaws are the most intelligent, I don't think you belong there. So that leaves Gryffindor, though you're not exactly brave, either. _

_You're just mean. _

_No, I'm truthful. _

_Koe …_

_Yadonushi …_

"Mr. Bakura?" McGonagall pulled Ryou out of his silent conversation. "Well, what House?"

_Go with Yuugi_, Bakura suggested.

_Why Yuugi?_

_Because I don't want you with Malik._

That was the last thing Bakura said before he closed himself off from the mind-link.

_Koe? … Koe? _

"Mr. Bakura," McGonagall demanded, her patience slipping.

"Gryffindor," Ryou said hurriedly.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Very well then. Gryffindor it is."

The Gryffindor table cheered again as Ryou made his way to sit down next to Yuugi.

Malik couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed that Ryou hadn't wanted to join him in Ravenclaw.

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All righty then. Good? Bad? Pairings ... you likey so far? Any more ideas for pairings, please tell me! And, this is, of course **TBC** unless there's someone that thinks this story is so horrible that it would be a sin to continue it.

And remember: REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!

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	4. Call Me Atemu

**Of Wizards and Duelists …**

_XO'MagickMoon'OX_

**A/N: **Okay, first of all, **more dialogue from OotP: not mine! Belongs to J. K. Rowling! **Okay, now that that's cleared up, I want to say something: many people were wondering why I put Malik in Ravenclaw. Don't you think he's a bit clever and intelligent? I mean, I think he and Isis both are Ravenclaw material, what with the things they had to go through and learn as children, growing up as tomb keepers. And think of the things he plotted when he had that little "I'm angry and twisted and I want to dominate the world" spell of his in the Battle City arc. He'd have to have some sort of developed mind to come up with all that! Well, my apologies if you strongly believe he belongs in a different House, but he just always seemed like the intelligent kind to me.

Oh, and sorry for the late update! I've had a horrible case of writer's block …

Okay, now on with the chapter!

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The next morning dawned bright and beautiful, and the sky in the Great Hall was a vibrant blue marbled with white. Malik sat down among the Ravenclaws, and Yuugi and Ryou were seated with the Gryffindors during breakfast, as would be the seating arrangement for the rest of the year. But, the trio was determined to not be separated, so after Malik had hurriedly finished his meal, he made his way towards the Gryffindor table.

Yuugi sat across from Ryou, talking merrily with Ron, Harry, and Hermione. Harry and Hermione sat next to Ryou, and then Ron was next to Yuugi. On the other side of the redhead sat Neville, followed by the Weasley twins who were hunched over a piece of parchment, chatting excitedly with Lee.

"So, Yuugi," Hermione said as she stabbed at her eggs, "what does your name mean, exactly?"

"Well –" Yuugi began, before a familiar voice cut him off.

"It means 'game'."

Yuugi looked up to see Malik hovering over him, smiling. Yuugi smiled back and nodded. "Yup!"

Yuugi moved over a little to make room for his friend. Malik sat down between Yuugi and Ron, ignoring the stares that some of the students in the Hall were giving him, both boys and girls alike. It was unusual for someone from one House to just sit down at the table of another House, even if the people the person was sitting with were their friends. But soon everyone went back to their business.

"And it suits him well," Malik continued. "Yuugi is the 'King of Games'."

"What's that mean?" Ron asked before taking a bite out of his toast.

"It means that he dueled in the biggest Duel Monsters tournaments and won first place, earning his title. He beat Seto Kaiba … and even Pegasus, the creator of the card game." Malik grinned, proud of his friend, who was blushing.

"Sorry mate, I'm still not following," Ron said.

Malik frowned. "You do know what Duel Monsters is, right?"

Everyone within earshot who was listening to the conversation shook their heads.

Ryou, Malik, and Yuugi gaped, awestruck.

"It's a _very _popular game … well, at least in Japan," Yuugi explained. He pulled a small, rectangular box out of his robes and opened it, removing the deck of cards held within it. He took a few and fanned them out in front of Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Neville.

Hermione took the cards and stared at them. "'Dark Magician' … 'Trap Hole' … 'Obelisk the Tormentor' … my, they're gruesome looking. Except for this Dark Magician here; he's handsome." Ron leaned over the table and pulled Hermione's hand towards him. A slight blush crept across her face as he touched her, but he didn't seem to notice. Harry, too, leaned towards his friend to observe the strange cards. Yuugi had handed Neville a few, as well.

"What do you do with them?" Neville wondered.

"Why, you duel," Malik said, as if it were as obvious as elementary arithmetic.

Yuugi collected his cards back from Hermione and Neville and returned them to his deck before stowing it away in its box, which was then pocketed. "But they're sometimes more trouble than they're worth," he muttered bitterly.

"Eh, don't blame the cards," Malik said, slinging an arm around Yuugi's shoulder. "It's the way people use them. Really, they would be nothing more than harmless pieces of cardboard did they not have such a dark history. And when you throw the Shadow Realm and Millennium Items into the mix, they become all the more dangerous."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked.

Malik turned to the bushy-haired girl. "Well, there have been some people in the recent past that have used the game of Duel Monsters and some dangerous magick to get what they want. For Pegasus, the man who created the cards, he hosted a tournament called Duelist Kingdom to lure Yuugi and a few others to him and gather all of the Millennium Items. Pegasus was convinced that he would be the victor in the end, but Yuugi proved him wrong, and rescued a whole bunch of people in the process. Yuugi seems to do that a lot … save the world, that is." Malik beamed; Yuugi's face just turned an interesting shade of pink.

"Malik, please … it's not all me. Yam –"

"What are the 'Millennium Items'?" Harry interrupted.

"Oh, well …" Malik pointed at the Millennium Puzzle that was hanging around Yuugi's neck, gleaming in the light of the Hall. "This is the Millennium Puzzle, and that," he gestured towards Ryou's amulet, "is the Millennium Ring. There are other Items, too, like the Millennium Rod, the Millennium Necklace, the Millennium Eye, the Millennium Scales, and so on. I had the Rod not too long ago, and my sister had the Necklace. Pegasus had the Eye, until someone stole it from him."

Standing behind Ryou, Bakura's spirit sniggered. No one had yet realized that it was he who had taken it from Pegasus.

"'Had'," Hermione repeated. "You mean, you don't have them anymore?"

"Oh no," Malik said. "We weren't destined to have them, at least not permanently."

"What do they do? The Items, I mean," Harry inquired, observing the golden pyramid Yuugi was wearing.

"Each has a different power, and they can house spirits of the past," Malik explained vaguely. "Well, the Ring can act as a compass, right Ryou?" The white-haired boy, staring down at his plate, nodded. "And the Rod can give the holder the ability to control minds. The Necklace can allow the wearer to look into the future, and the Eye can let the person read other's minds. You see, the reason Pegasus was such an accomplished duelist was because he would cheat using his Millennium Item, reading his opponent's moves before they carried them out with his Millennium Eye. But when Yuugi dueled him, he found a way around Pegasus' trick, and beat him."

"Where did they come from? … Who created them?" Hermione asked.

Malik passed Yuugi a knowing, sidelong glance. "A noble pharaoh from ancient Egypt."

Yuugi grinned, taking a bite of his sausage.

"So this Pegasus character used his … er … Item to cheat. Well, what did you do with the Rod, Malik?" Ron asked.

Ryou choked on his food, quickly grabbing his goblet and taking a drink. Yuugi dropped his fork, but Malik just looked down at his hands, his expression one of great solemnity.

"Terrible things," he murmured. "If it hadn't been for Yuugi, many innocent people would've died."

Yuugi placed a hand on Malik's arm. "I really didn't do anything. It was all Yami, and if it weren't and the rest of the gang – Jounouchi, Anzu, Honda, Otogi … even the Kaiba brothers and Ryou, and Isis, Rishid, and you –"

Malik slammed his fist on the table. "_ME_?" he cried incredulously. "It was all _my_ fault! What the hell did I do to _help_?"

"Malik … it wasn't you; it was your yami that was causing all of the trouble."

Malik shook his head. "But _I _created him! And _I _started it all! He simply picked up where I refused to go on."

"Exactly! You realized what you were doing and tried to stop it!" Yuugi pointed out. "You had the biggest part in destroying your yami and ending all of the chaos."

"What the hell is a 'yami'?" Ron asked.

"'Yami' is Japanese for 'dark'," Yuugi said, skirting the actual point of the question. They had already gone out on a limb and explained about Duel Monsters and the Millennium Items, but how were they supposed to explain to these people about their alter-egos, their other halves?

"Well Yuugi," Hermione said, "you and Harry are a lot alike. He, too, saves the world on a regular basis. Maybe not from people who try to dominate humankind using a card game, but from other Dark forces."

"Who? That 'Lord Voldemort' guy?" Yuugi asked.

Hermione winced and nodded. "Pretty much every year he's got to fend off that madman, keep him from returning."

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, "I did a brilliant job of that last year."

"Harry," Hermione said in her matter-of-fact tone, "it was bound to happen sooner or later, him coming back and all. You couldn't ward him off forever all by yourself. But you've faced dangers most people can only imagine in their nightmares."

"Yeah, you made that _very_ clear back in July," Ron muttered, referring to when Harry had exploded when they'd finally gotten together over the summer at the Order headquarters.

Harry nodded sheepishly.

Their conversation was cut short as owls began swooping in from the windows around the Hall. Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik looked up in surprise. Their eyes widened, and Ryou gasped.

"What the –?" Yuugi looked to Ron, Harry, and Hermione for an explanation.

"Oh, that's just the morning post. We deliver mail by owls. You'll get used to them," Hermione explained dismissively, finishing up her breakfast.

"Look at today!" Ron cried as he went over his schedule. "History of Magick, double Potions, Divination, and double Defense Against the Dark Arts … Binns, Snape, Trelawney, and that Umbridge woman all in one day!"

"Hey, Malik," Yuugi said, looking over his schedule as well, "we have the first class with you! And Divination!"

Malik smiled. "Great!"

"But then we have double Potions with Slytherin," Harry grumbled.

"What's so wrong with Slytherin?" Malik asked, sensing the obvious resentment suddenly surrounding the Gryffindors.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville traded incredulous glances. Where did they begin?

"Well," Ron said, "Slytherin is the House of snobby pureblood freaks, all of whom have their noses so far up in the air they'd drown if they went out in the rain. They're cruel and sarcastic prats who love to make our lives living hells."

"And Malfoy is practically the Slytherin Prince, the Ruler of the Cruel and Sarcastic Prats," Harry added. "You'd do well to stay away from him."

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Gryffindor and Ravenclaw shuffled tiredly into the History of Magick classroom, though Ryou, Yuugi, and Malik couldn't understand why everyone was so unenthusiastic. Yet, no sooner had they taken their seats and their ghost of a teacher, Professor Binns, had begun speaking did they realize that this was quite possibly to dullest class there was. It didn't help that Binns had a monotonous voice and tended to go on and on, seemingly simply repeating the same lessons he'd given for the past some-odd years, not really paying any attention to his class, sometimes acting as if they weren't even there and he was teaching an empty classroom. Well, he certainly had the zeal of one teaching an empty classroom. Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik noticed that within ten minutes, more than half the class had lost what little interest they had in the lesson and were busying themselves with doodling or daydreaming.

Everyone was grateful when the bell rang; the students were sure that if they heard another word on giant wars, they'd go completely insane.

Next class was Potions, and sadly the trio had to part, Malik going off to Care of Magickal Creatures. As they came to the stairs which Ryou and Yuugi would descend into the dungeons, they said their temporary goodbyes to the blonde as he started down the hallway that would lead outside, following the rest of the Ravenclaws. He was unaware of Ryou's eyes following his shrinking form.

_Why didn't I go with Malik in Ravenclaw? _Ryou found himself wondering. _Not that I have anything against Yuugi, I just would've preferred to go with Malik, now that I think about it, just to be around him …_

_Shut-up. I don't want you anywhere _near _that blonde pretty boy. He's nothing but a pain-in-the-ass_, Bakura growled through their mind-link.

_What do you have against Malik?_

_Everything._

_That doesn't make any sense._

… Silence …

_Koe?_

… Silence …

_Koe?_

"Ryou?"

Ryou jumped at the sound of his name. He turned to Yuugi, finding that Malik was out of sight and had been for the past minute, although Ryou's gaze had been lingering on the corridor where the Egyptian had disappeared down.

"Ready?" Yuugi asked with a smile, all too used to the white-haired boy's constant zoning. "We're going to get left behind if we don't hurry," he said as he began down the steps.

"Right," Ryou murmured as he followed, his bag slung over his shoulder.

The air as they descended grew noticeably colder and danker and altogether uninviting. The stone walls changed in color from warm brown to dingy gray, and frighteningly enough, any window to be found in the first few hallways had iron bars stretching across the length of the openings. As they reached the Potions room, there were no longer any windows at all, as they were too far down. The only light came from the ugly orange glow of the torches.

The Gryffindors met up with the Slytherins, who seemed much more at home in the dank bowels of the school, outside the large irons doors of the classroom. Ryou and Yuugi noticed how the two Houses bristled in each other's presence, like wolves guarding their territories; hackles raised, fangs bared … it was a bit disconcerting, the hate that seemed to span the air between the groups.

And yet … the hate was slightly punctuated by something softer and sweeter, though it was so faint that only unnaturally sensitive entities would notice it, as if the aura was weakly resonating from one person.

And, let's just say that Bakura and the Pharaoh were unnaturally sensitive entities, and could sense with startling clarity that someone from one group felt affection for someone in the other, even if the affection was being suppressed by the person.

The tomb robber and Egyptian king were standing a little ways away from the students, Bakura's spirit leaning against the wall, arms crossed. They had also been present in the History of Magick class, standing in the back of the room out of earshot of their hosts, occasionally passing a snide comment between each other. Though, their jibes and jeers had been less heated than usual, almost bringing their quarrelling down to a harmless banter, though neither would admit it. They seemed to tacitly understand that, over the course of the long school year, they would be stuck together during Ryou and Yuugi's classes, as their hosts would be busy working studiously. They had no one to entertain them but each other, and for now, that seemed to be enough.

Bakura grudgingly admitted to himself that in the carriage he had actually had what could be considered a small conversational debate with the Pharaoh about love and weakness and strength. It had almost intrigued him, and he found himself itching for more conversation. He couldn't recall having a decent discussion with anyone since he was very young. Not even with Ryou had he ever talked and debated on an intellectual or philosophical level. Perhaps the Pharaoh could offer him what he unknowingly lusted after. Perhaps.

Then, the classroom door creaked open, pulling Bakura from his reverie. He and the Pharaoh followed the students as they filed into the musty dungeon. The two spirits stood again in the back of the room, watching as the professor called his class to order. It was the pale, dark-haired man they had seen sitting up at the staff table last night, the one that seemed to be scrutinizing the students with a vague distaste.

"Settle down," he drawled. He had a voice that carried a certain monotone and sickly sweetness that immediately gave one the impression of a harsh, misleading person, a person of whom all should be wary. Ryou and Yuugi caught onto this quickly, and realized why their three Gryffindor friends so dreaded Potions. Not to mention, they had to share it with the Gryffindors' most-hated rival, Slytherin.

Although, Bakura couldn't see why the House was so hated; he found them to be quite an interesting bunch, much as he'd speculated the previous night while Ryou was trying to decide which House he wanted to be in.

The class began, the students fervently trying to assemble the "Draught of Peace". The two spirits sensed the tension from the Gryffindors and the slightly easier air from the Slytherins as they worked.

Bakura walked around the perimeter, running his phantom fingertips over the jars lining the shelves standing against the walls. There were herbs and roots and fungi, liquids of every color, some transparent and some resembling a thick paste. There were claws and teeth, the vibrant, fiery feathers of a phoenix, essence of a unicorn horn, the hoof of a kelpie, scales of a dragon, purified sea water, and every stone or crystal imaginable, some in their natural forms and others ground down to a powder. Bakura was in awe; never had he seen such a plethora of ingredients in one room, and of such variety, too. There were shelves all around the room, covering almost every inch of wall in the front and rear, the more rare and potent ingredients behind the professor's desk. There were cauldrons stacked near the shelves, and spoons and ladles, vials and flasks packed neatly in a box by the board, where the professor had magickally conjured the instructions.

The Pharaoh watched the tomb robber with interest. He had never seen Bakura so enthralled and awestruck. The thief was skilled in Shadow Magick, as good as any priest, and obviously had a thing for potion-making. The Pharaoh enjoyed this atypical moment of normalcy that poked through Bakura's sarcastic and cruel exterior; for the thief to portray any emotion other than rage, scorn, malice, or nonchalant coolness was as rare as any foreign delicacy.

The Pharaoh couldn't help but chuckle, drawing Bakura's attention to him.

The thief scowled. "What?"

The other spirit just shook his spectral head. "Nothing."

Bakura huffed. He stepped silently across the stone floor and hopped onto the corner of a nearby desk, the student sitting at it oblivious to the spirit's presence. The Pharaoh was standing against the wall near the aforementioned desk, and now Bakura was facing him. The Egyptian king watched the other expectantly.

Bakura frowned thoughtfully, taking a deep breath, before saying, "You know, Pharaoh, we're going to be spending a lot of time together during these classes."

The Pharaoh nodded. "I know."

Bakura, seeing that fact firmly established, continued, "I was thinking that we could … talk."

The Pharaoh cocked an eyebrow. "About …?"

The thief looked away, blushing slightly. "I don't know," he said harshly. "Anything."

Bakura looked up as the Pharaoh chuckled. The white-haired spirit felt irritation bubbling up in his gut as he watched the Pharaoh smirk that little knowing smirk of his, acting like he's already finished the chapter while the rest of the class is still on the first page, like he knows something no one else does. It was _irritating_.

"Damn you," Bakura growled.

"Calm down, thief," the tri-color-haired spirit said in his smooth, demanding yet lighthearted voice. The voice of a king.

Bakura huffed. "I _do _have a name," he spat.

"As do I," the Pharaoh said calmly.

Bakura blinked. "… … …"

It had never really occurred to him that the Pharaoh had a name. Now that the thief thought about it, he _had _known the Pharaoh's name, back when they lived in ancient Egypt, but had never been of high enough social status to address him by it. Therefore, the Pharaoh's name just sort of disappeared into the recesses of Bakura's mind, and calling him 'Pharaoh' became as natural as calling Ryou 'Yadonushi'.

Bakura realized that the other spirit was still watching him. He blinked again. "Well? What is it?"

"You mean you don't even _know _my name?" the Pharaoh asked.

Bakura shook his head and noticed how the Pharaoh's expression went from incredulous and a bit shocked to sad and disappointed. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, but said nothing, as if deep in thought.

Bakura grew impatient, albeit a bit curious as to the Pharaoh's sudden solemnity. "What?"

The Pharaoh laughed dryly. "I just think it's a bit sad that no one remembers my name."

"Oh stop being so dramatic," Bakura said. "So what if I forgot your name –"

"Everyone forgot my name," the Pharaoh interrupted. "I'm not even a _footnote_ in the history books. Ramses, Tutankhamun, Hatshepsut, Nefertiti, Cleopatra … but no Atemu." He opened his eyes and met Bakura's gaze. "Was I really that bad of a ruler?"

Bakura was taken aback. "I … er … uh …" he stuttered. This was something he'd never thought he'd be asked, especially not by the Pharaoh himself.

The Pharaoh shook his head. "Never mind."

Bakura relaxed and then thought for a moment. 'Atemu'? Right! That was his name! Pharaoh Atemu! Bakura cleared his throat. "Well … so you want me to call you Atemu, then?"

The Pharaoh smiled. "That would be nice."

"Well, then it's only fair that you call be Bakura and not 'thief' or 'tomb robber'," Bakura said, folding his arms.

The phar – er – Atemu nodded. "Very well." Atemu pushed himself off the wall and paced a bit up the aisle. Bakura jumped off the desk and followed.

"Hey … _Atemu_," Bakura said, the name a bit awkward on his tongue. "You know, you never _did _answer my question."

"Hmm? What question?"

"The one I asked you in the carriage."

Atemu turned to face Bakura. He glanced around the room, his eyes lingering on Yuugi and Ryou working in the front. Then his gaze fell on the door. "Let's not talk here," he murmured.

Bakura deemed that a good idea. Their hosts, after all, _could _hear the spirits, even if everyone else couldn't. He followed the Pharaoh out the door (which they simply had to faze through when dissipating their particles enough) and walked a little ways down the torch-lit corridor in comfortable silence.

Then Atemu stopped, taking a moment to close himself off from his and Yuugi's mind-link, advising Bakura to do the same. Even though their hosts would most likely be too preoccupied to eavesdrop through the link, it was still possible that they could accidentally overhear something that their yamis most certainly did _not _want them to hear.

Atemu took a deep breath, glancing around the corridor and leaning back against the wall before turning to Bakura. "Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I do love Yuugi."

Bakura grinned. "Ah, I see."

"And you love Ryou," Atemu said quite blatantly.

Bakura blanched, taking a wary step back, as if the accusation were a rabid dog cornering him. "I … I don't!" he stammered.

The Pharaoh sighed. "Yes, you do."

"How the hell would you know?" Bakura snapped.

"Because … I can sense it. Whenever you speak to him when you're out of the Ring, your tone is laced with underlying love, no matter how sardonic or cold-hearted you sound to everyone else. Remember, Bakura," Atemu tapped his temple with his pointer finger, "I am a spirit. Spirits are highly sensitive entities."

Bakura nodded. "So you could feel it, too, back before class started, when the students were in the hall?"

"You mean that aura of affection?"

"Uh-huh."

"Yes, I could feel it. I think someone in the Slytherin House has a crush on someone in Gryffindor."

Bakura bristled, momentarily flashing on Ryou. Already he was losing him to Malik, but someone else, too? … Wait. How was he so sure that the said Gryffindor was Ryou? _Stop being paranoid_, he scolded himself.

"But, you changed the subject," Atemu said. "You love Ryou."

Bakura froze. He rewound his last few thoughts and replayed them through his head. Maybe Atemu was right. Why was he worried about losing Ryou if he didn't have feelings for him? But … it was impossible. How could he have feelings for that boy? He was pathetic, weak, sniveling, frail, gentle, sweet, adorable, beautiful … The thief groaned, putting his head in his hands and sinking to his knees. Why was this happening? "I can't … _love _…him. Love is weakness."

Atemu sighed. "No, it's not. Only the hardened heart of a thief would lead you to believe so."

"But it's the truth that I live by," Bakura said, looking up. "To feel attachment to another living being is weakness."

Atemu tilted his head inquiringly. "Why?"

"There are many reasons. One, the person can be used against you, threatened by your enemies. Two, they can be cause for hesitation when quick thinking is dire. Three, they stand in your way when you try to achieve your goals. Four, they turn you soft, grinding down the sharp attitude that's needed to survive in a harsh world. Five –"

"Okay, okay. Stop there," the Pharaoh interrupted, holding up his hand. "Your philosophies are a bit twisted."

"No, yours are just too sweet. That's what happens when you lead the pampered, sheltered life of a royal. You have no idea what it's like growing up on the streets, where you're treated like a rat and fall prey to all the sick bastards that prowl the city at night, the thieves that take the last coin you have so you yourself have to resort to thieving just to survive. You don't know how harsh the world really is, and in this harsh world, the strong live and the weak _die_. And to become attached to another living being is weakness, hence, _love is death_."

Atemu was silent, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He sighed. "I see. Well, I strongly disagree. Love is strength. Have you ever had someone who's smile just made you feel ten times your actual might? Have you ever had someone who you just wanted to hold, just wanted to protect? Have you ever felt invincible by simply being in another's presence, like you can conquer anything? Have you ever had someone to fall back on when you felt grieved or strained or wretched, someone who just made every problem go away?"

Bakura dropped his gaze to the stone floor, saying nothing.

"Love is a blessing from Isis. Love in itself is a power greater than anything."

"Isis." Bakura said the name with great distaste. "She always was my least favorite deity."

"Perhaps you should not turn her away so readily."

"Atemu, open your eyes. Love is not a blessing, it's a curse! Does Yuugi even know how you feel?"

"Well … er … no –"

"Exactly! How is that a blessing? To be so close to the one you love, but to not feel your love returned! How is that a Ra-damned blessing? HOW?" Bakura wiped at his eyes, which had begun to sting. "Dammit …" he swore under his breath.

"Sometimes," Atemu said quietly, "just to be in love is enough."

"You speak in riddles," Bakura accused angrily.

"You just don't understand."

That was when the dungeon doors swung open and the class filed out. Ryou and Yuugi saw their yamis and waved. Atemu smiled but Bakura scowled, causing Ryou to shy away. The thief felt an immediate twinge of regret.

"Nice going, Potter. Can't even brew a decent potion, and it's only the first day!"

Harry, who had been following Hermione, Ron, Yuugi, and Ryou turned to meet flashing silver eyes. He glared.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry spat.

Atemu and Bakura, who were standing beside the group, watched as Draco stepped up to Harry. He looked the raven-haired boy straight in the eye, their noses nearly touching. Harry could feel Draco's warm breath on his face as he said, "Watch it, Potter," his voice dripping with venom. Harry was a bit uncomfortable with the close proximity of the blonde, but never ceased his glare. Draco smirked, before joining his friends as they went down to the Great Hall for lunch.

Harry let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"That was weird," Ron muttered as he came up beside Harry.

Harry nodded.

Atemu and Bakura traded knowing glances as they felt the familiar affectionate aura receding down the hall after the Slytherins.

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Still **TBC **unless someone protests. So, how does everyone like my pairings so far? Any other requests? Anything you want to see in my story as far as plot points go? I need ideas otherwise my evil writer's block will return in all it's evil glory!

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	5. Cedric Diggory

**Of Wizards and Duelists …**

_XO'MagickMoon'OX_

**A/N: **Okeydokey, now I know in the beginning I said that this fic would probably have nothing to do with the OotP, but … I lied. As it turned out, I find myself using dialogue and scenes straight from the book – which is, for the hundredth time, **_not mine_. It is J. K. Rowling's!** As for this chapter, almost all of the dialogue in the 'Defense Against the Dark Arts class' scene is directly from the OotP, and some dialogue between Harry, Ron, and Hermione at lunch … and in the flashback (you'll see when you read it) … pretty much all of the dialogue is from _The Sorcerer's Stone_. Okay? Okay. And thanks to all of you who've reviewed so far! I love you guys! -

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* * *

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Ryou and Yuugi sat with the Ravenclaws during lunch once they'd finished their meal. The Ravenclaws were wary of the Gryffindors at first, but immediately warmed up to Yuugi's friendly attitude and Ryou's sweet demeanor.

"So how was Care of Magickal Creatures?" Yuugi asked Malik as the blonde took a bite of his pie.

"Great. I think you'll definitely like it, Yuugi. We're working with these things called 'bowtruckles' … they're tree-guardians, if I remember correctly. Annoying as hell, though. One scratched me when I tried to steady it so my group could draw it." Malik held up his hand to display a large, red cut trailing across the tanned flesh of his palm. "Damned thing …"

"So, have you made any friends yet?" Yuugi asked with a smile.

"Well," Malik began, "there were these two girls who asked me to join their group in Care of Magickal Creatures. Marietta … I think was one of their names. She's sweet, and the other's name was … Cho … Cho Chang, that's it. They really_ are_ sweet, but they kept giggling and blushing the whole time. I couldn't determine who was more annoying: the bowtruckle or them. Ah well, we got through the assignment well enough."

Ryou looked over at Malik and said, "Well, you seem to be pretty popular with the girls, here."

Malik tugged absentmindedly on one of his gold earrings, sighing thoughtfully. "Can't see why, though."

Ryou blushed and looked away. _'Can't see why'? Are you blind, Malik? It's because you're … amazing. _

Meanwhile, at the Gryffindor table, Hermione was saying, "That was really unfair," as she took a piece of shepherd's pie. "Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's, when he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire."

She was referring to their recent Potions class, where Harry had made one mistake and Snape had, as usual, jumped down his throat about it, immediately disposing of the potion and giving Harry zero marks for the day.

Harry scowled. "Yeah, well, since when has Snape ever been fair to me?"

Silence followed, as the obvious answer didn't need to be pointed out.

"I did think he might be a bit better this year," Hermione said quietly, disappointment tinting her words. "I mean … you know …" Her tone dropped considerably so that only Harry and Ron could hear her as she looked left and right. "… Now that he's in the Order and everything."

Ron snorted. "Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots. Anyway, I've always thought Dumbledore was cracked trusting Snape, where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?"

Hermione frowned. "I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, Ron."

They continued to bicker, until Harry exploded in their faces, after which they promptly shut-up.

Then Ron, completely changing the subject for the sakes of his and Hermione's well-beings, said, "So, what do you think was up with Malik when he said that he'd done 'terrible things' this morning?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, but I think whatever he was remembering was very painful. I felt it best to change the subject at that point, after Harry had asked about 'yamis' … which Yuugi didn't seem very willing to elaborate on. They're a strange bunch, the lot of them. ... But, I like them."

Harry and Ron nodded their consent.

Meanwhile, Atemu and Bakura were busy entertaining themselves. It turned out that the ghosts in the Hall could see the spirits clearly, and the deceased Renaissance ladies and gents were quite interesting characters. But soon Atemu gravitated towards the Slytherin table, ending the conversation he'd been having with Nearly-Headless Nick. Bakura lifted an inquisitive eyebrow and followed the Pharaoh.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"Investigating," Atemu replied with an uncharacteristically roguish air.

Bakura narrowed his bright, brown eyes suspiciously. "Investigating … what?"

Atemu climbed onto the table and flattened himself over the food with his elbows propped up, chin in his hands – though it did nothing to disturb the meal – so that he was staring directly at a certain blonde Slytherin. He dissipated his particles so that he wouldn't feel any discomfort as people reached through his phantom form to grab at a roll or goblet every now and then that was somewhere beneath him. He watched Draco as he talked with his friends. Bakura crawled onto the table and sat Indian-style next to Atemu, watching the Pharaoh watch the Slytherin.

"So, what are we doing exactly?" he tried again.

"You remember that certain 'affectionate aura' emanating from one of the Slytherins?"

Bakura nodded.

"And you remember how we felt that same aura within Draco's group of friends after Potions class?" Atemu turned to Bakura, sitting up with his legs beneath him.

"You don't think …"

Atemu smirked. "Yes, I do. I think that Draco has a crush on someone in the Gryffindor House."

Bakura chuckled. "Too bad for him; the Gryffindor House is also known as the 'Death to Draco Malfoy' House. He hasn't got a chance with any Gryffindor." The thief frowned thoughtfully. "Another member for the 'Isis Haters' club."

"'Isis Haters'?" Atemu repeated.

Bakura scowled. "I hate Isis, because she hates me … and you, and obviously Draco, too."

Atemu shook his head and said quietly, "I don't blame her for anything … I don't hate her. I thank her … for blessing me."

"Oh cut the crap, Pharaoh," Bakura snapped. Atemu glared at him.

"What crap, _thief_?"

Bakura groaned. This was not what he wanted, to be back on original terms with the Pharaoh. "Look, _Atemu_," he amended his previous slip-up of calling him 'Pharaoh', "I just … it's hard. You may be fine with unrequited love, but I'm not."

Atemu turned back to Draco, as did Bakura, and a blanket of silence descended upon them as they listened to the chatter of the Slytherins.

"So what do you reckon we're doing in Grubbly-Plank's class?" a pug-nosed girl was asking.

"Whatever it is, it'll be better than whatever that oaf would've taught us," Draco said, smirking.

"Where do you think he is?" a rodent-like, black-haired boy wondered.

"If we're lucky, lying facedown in a ditch somewhere," Draco quipped, "… _dead_."

The remark elicited a bout of sniggers and giggles from the surrounding Slytherins.

"Reckon that would really break the Gryffindors' spirits," a large boy said with a grin. "'Specially Potter and his friends."

Draco laughed. "Yeah, reckon it would."

As the others went back to their lunches, Draco stared down at his plate. Both Atemu and Bakura could sense his sudden crestfallenness, however hard he tried to hide it. Obviously he didn't find Harry and his friends' being brokenhearted as funny as he'd just let on. Hiding it from his dense group of friends was no problem, but the spirits were not fooled.

Draco's eyes flickered up quickly, almost guiltily – as if stealing a glance in a certain direction were a heinous crime – and it seemed that he was looking right at Atemu's chest. But when Atemu and Bakura turned to follow the blonde's gaze, they found a certain raven-haired Gryffindor directly in their lines of vision.

Atemu grinned. "I see."

---

Divination class passed quietly enough. Though, it didn't take long for Ryou, Yuugi, and Malik to deem Professor Trelawney a certified loon. Anyone with eyes could tell she was an old fraud, albeit a decent Divination teacher. At least she knew something of what she was talking about, even if she didn't actually have 'the Sight', and even if she wasn't really right in the head.

Yet, when Defense Against the Dark Arts rolled around, things got interesting. It was quite obvious that there wasn't a single person that was fond of Professor Umbridge … particularly Harry and his friends.

Ryou and Yuugi didn't know much of what to expect, as this was their first ever Defense Against the Dark Arts class, but obviously the rest of the students, all of whom had taken the class in the past, were very unsatisfied with the way Umbridge was teaching.

As everyone began reading the assigned chapter, Hermione raised her hand. It seemed Professor Umbridge was purposely ignoring her, but after minutes passed and Hermione didn't put her hand down nor change the look of silent determination on her face, Umbridge couldn't help but call on her.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?"

Hermione shook her head, finally putting her hand down. "Not about the chapter, no."

Umbridge gave a small, unmistakably irritated smile. "Well, we're reading just now. If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims," Hermione persisted.

As Umbridge raised her eyebrows, she asked, "And your name is …?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully."

"Well, I don't." Hermione's voice never softened from its matter-of-fact tone. "There's nothing written up there about _using _defensive spells."

There was a short silence as the students looked up to the board where Umbridge had magickally written the course aims, which were: "1. _Understanding the principles of underlying defensive magick; _2. _Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magick can legally be used_; and 3. _Placing the use of defensive magick in a context for practical use._" There seemed an air of agreement about the class.

"_Using _defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge gave a small laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to _use _a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

Then, Ron burst, "We're not going to use magick?" quite loudly.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class Mr. …?"

"Weasley," Ron said as his hand shot up.

The toad-like professor's smile widened eerily, and she turned away from Ron, only to find Harry and Hermione with their hands raised as well. Irritation flickered across her face, but she never stopped smiling.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" she said. "You wanted to ask something else?"

Hermione promptly answered, "Yes. Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" Professor Umbridge asked, her voice dripping with a venomous sweetness.

"No, but –"

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way –"

"What use is that?" Harry inputted loudly, causing a few students to jump. "If we're going to be attacked it won't be in a –"

"_Hand_, Mr. Potter!" Umbridge trilled.

Harry put his hand in the air, but the professor just ignored him, much to Harry's annoyance. Yet, much to _Professor Umbridge's_ annoyance, several other students had their hands raised, as well.

Atemu and Bakura were in the back as usual, watching the whole intriguing episode. Atemu certainly found nothing to be desired in Professor Umbridge, and seemed ready to jettison her into the Shadow Realm at any second, granted Bakura didn't beat him to it. And, seeing that the thief had much less self-control than Atemu, the latter seemed more likely to happen.

Umbridge was saying, "And your name is?"

"Dean Thomas."

"Well, Mr. Thomas?"

"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" Dean asked. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free –"

"I repeat," Umbridge interrupted, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"No, but –"

"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," the professor talked over him, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed – not to mention," she laughed wickedly, "extremely dangerous half-breeds."

The atmosphere tensed with indignation, and Yuugi and Ryou traded nervous glances. This discussion just seemed to have taken a turn for the worse.

"If you mean Professor Lupin," Dean said angrily, "he was the best teacher we ever –"

"_Hand_, Mr. Thomas! As I was saying – you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day –"

Hermione burst, "No we haven't, we just –"

"_Your hand is not up, Miss Granger_!"

Umbridge turned away as Hermione's hand was thrust into the air.

"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only preformed illegal curses in front of you, he actually preformed them _on _you –"

"Well he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" Dean Thomas said heatedly. "Mind you, we still learned loads –"

"_Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas_!" Professor Umbridge nearly screeched. "Now it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?" She turned to Parvati, who had just raised her hand.

The girl answered, "Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the countercurses and things?"

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," Umbridge answered dismissively.

"Without ever practicing them before?" Parvati persisted. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough –"

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" Harry's hand was raised high in the air, his anger peaking.

Professor Umbridge turned to him, a dangerous air about her. "This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world."

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."

"Oh yeah?" Harry was livid, his temper released from the confines of his self-control.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" Professor Umbridge asked with a false sweetness that made some students shiver.

"Hmm, let's think … maybe _Lord Voldemort_?" Harry quipped.

A simultaneous shudder ran through the class, some students gasping or squeaking. Strangely enough, the professor didn't cringe. She was watching Harry like a hunter watches its prey walk into a trap.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."

There was silence in the room, though one could've sworn they could hear a sizzling sound from the heated glares either pointed at Harry or Umbridge from the students.

"Now, let me make a few things quite plain."

"What are 'points'?" Ryou whispered to Hermione. She silenced him with one of those 'I'll tell you later' looks, then went back to watching the professor warily.

Umbridge was standing up and leaning over her desk towards the class, her arms braced on her desktop. "You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead –"

"He wasn't dead," Harry cut her off, his voice icy with anger, "but yeah, he's returned!"

"Mr.-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself," Professor Umbridge hissed in one breath, not looking at him. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. _This is a lie_."

"It is NOT a lie!" Harry shouted. "I saw him, I fought him!"

Umbridge grinned victoriously as she announced, "Detention, Mr. Potter! Tomorrow evening. Five o' clock. My office." She turned to the rest of the class. "I repeat, _this is a lie_. The Ministry of Magick guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners'."

The squat, gray-faced woman sat down behind her desk, satisfied. Harry, however, rose from his seat, trembling with rage. All eyes were on him.

Hermione tugged on his sleeve, hissing, "Harry, no!" He ignored her, his gaze never leaving Umbridge's toad-like face.

In a wavering voice, he asked, "So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?"

Ryou and Yuugi traded bemused glances. Who was Cedric Diggory? Atemu and Bakura were watching the class with part interest and part wariness, though they, too, had no idea what anyone was talking about. The rest of the class, however, seemed to know exactly where the conversation was going, as at the mention of Cedric, they all seemed to silently gasp. Frighteningly, Umbridge's face was void of its usual fake smile.

Her voice was ice as she said tersely, "Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident."

"It was murder," Harry retorted, trembling from head to toe. It was hard for him to say; hell, he had barely mentioned the terrible events of last year to his own best friends, and was not exactly willing to talk about it in front of thirty classmates. Nevertheless, he continued, "Voldemort killed him, and you know it."

The professor was quiet, silent as the rest of the class. Her pudgy face a blank mask, Umbridge said softly, "Come here, Mr. Potter, dear."

Harry pushed away from his desk, the legs of his chair grating across the floor, and stepped up to the teacher's desk. The room seemed to be holding its breath in silent anticipation, everyone on the edges of their seats. Harry was fuming, too angry to care about what happened next.

A moment or two passed as Umbridge scribbled something down on a blank slip of pink parchment, the suspenseful silence enveloping the class. Naught but the quill scratching across the parchment could be heard. Then Umbridge stopped, tapped the parchment with her wand, and the slip sealed itself so that Harry couldn't open it. He hadn't been able to read it as she wrote for she had hunched over the paper, hiding her message.

"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear." Professor Umbridge held the note out to Harry.

He snatched it wordlessly, turned on his heel and stomped out of the room without passing anyone so much as a glance.

Ryou and Yuugi again turned to each other. They hadn't a clue as to the vast significance of what had just transpired, but somehow simply now knew for sure that Professor Umbridge was by far their least favorite teacher.

---

_A pale, eleven-year old boy stood on a footstool in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions as a young witch fitted his school robes around his thin frame. He brushed his platinum-blonde bangs from his bright, silver eyes, craning his neck to see where she was pinning something around his waist. That was when the door opened, the bell above the door jingling as it was knocked against. The boy on the footstool then turned to peer up at the front of the shop as another boy walked in. _

_No sooner had he laid eyes on the dark-haired, bespectacled youth than an electric shock coursed through his veins. It was an instant attraction; what sort of attraction was yet to be seen, but an attraction nonetheless. Unexplainable … indefinable … indescribable was the sensation, but the blonde-haired child didn't care. All that mattered was meeting the other boy._

_The stranger began to speak, but Madam Malkin cut him off. "Hogwarts, dear?" she questioned. "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact." _

_The mauve-clad, squat witch led the raven-haired boy to a stool beside the pale youth, and he stepped up onto it. He was a good inch or so taller than the blonde. Madam Malkin pulled a robe over the newcomer's head and began fitting it. _

_The silver-eyed boy was itching with excitement and curiosity, and at that moment striking up a conversation seemed to most logical thing to do. So, he said, "Hello. Hogwarts, too?"_

_The dark-haired child nodded. "Yes."_

"_My father's next door buying me books and my mother's up the street looking at wands. Then, I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first-years can't have their own." The pale youth couldn't help but add, with a smirk, "I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." _

_A frown flickered across the other boy's face, a sort of vague recognition. _

_The blonde continued, "Have _you _got your own broom?"_

"_No."_

"_Play Quidditch at all?"_

"_No."_

_The pale boy felt a certain hopelessness, as if the conversation were going no where. Nevertheless, he went on, determined not to let the conversation die, "_I _do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you'll be in yet?"_

"_No."_

"_Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"_

"_Mmm," the other boy sounded in vague consent. _

_The blonde sighed inwardly. This conversation really was going nowhere, wasn't it? Maybe the attraction he'd felt to the boy was just his imagination. I mean, what was there about the dark-haired boy that attracted the pale youth to him? _

_Unexplainable … indefinable … indescribable … _

_He didn't know, but he was sure it was something. There was something about the stranger that just intrigued him, made him want to get to know the boy, everything about him … He would not let the conversation die._

_He turned to the front window. "I say, look at that man!"_

"_That's Hagrid," said the other boy, an amused, strangely satisfied grin gracing his face. The blonde decided he like the boy's smile. "He works at Hogwarts."_

"_Oh," said the other. "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"_

"_He's the gamekeeper." There was something displeased about the boy's expression that the blonde had a feeling was his doing. Had he said something to make him dislike him? _

"_Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of _savage_ – lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magick, and ends up setting fire to his bed." True, he had heard that, and he believed his father to be a very reliable source. _

"_I think he's brilliant."_

_The pale boy couldn't help but find this somewhat amusing, and a sneer instinctively played across his lips. "_Do _you? Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"_

"_They're dead," said the other curtly. _

"_Oh, sorry." And the blonde _was_ sort of sorry … well … no, he wasn't. He couldn't help it; sympathy wasn't something that came easily to him. "But they were _our _kind, weren't they?"_

_The dark-haired boy frowned, his expression something short of a scowl. The pale youth stifled a surprise squeak. What? It was a normal question, wasn't it? Why would the other take it into offense? The boy said, "They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."_

_The blonde nodded. "I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?" _

_The boy opened his mouth to reply, but Madam Malkin again cut him off. "That's you done, my dear." _

_The dark-haired youth jumped off his stool somewhat hastily. So soon? Did he really have to leave? The pale boy felt a sort of longing ache in his gut, that was, again, unexplainable, and he managed to call, "Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," as the other boy left the shop._

Brilliant, _the blonde chastised himself. _That was a bloody brilliant conversation, just wonderful. Really, what is the matter with you, Draco? Can't you manage to make at least one friend?

… _And it wasn't until they were on the Hogwarts Express that he saw the boy again … _

"_Oh Draco, you'll never believe it!" Pansy Parkinson squealed, wrinkling her pug-nose in malignant delight. _

"_What now?" the blonde drawled._

"_They say _Harry Potter_'s here, starting school this very year! I believe someone told me he's in the compartment with that Weasley boy."_

_Draco bristled. Harry Potter? Really? The famed Boy-Who-Lived? He smirked. "Crabbe, Goyle," he said to his two friends, "let's go greet Mr. Potter, shall we?"_

_His cronies grunted in consent, sniggering as the trio left their compartment. _

_They found the compartment Pansy had said Harry was sharing with the Weasley boy. Before Draco's fingers even reached the door handle, he felt a familiar electric surge shoot up his arm, causing him to hesitate. He shook away the sensation and slid the door open to reveal a freckled redhead, an unruly raven-haired boy, and mess of sweet wrappers._

_Silver locked with emerald as Draco met the dark-haired boy's gaze, undetectable surprise flickering across his face. It was the boy from Madam Malkin's! Was he really _the _Harry Potter?_

_Stifling his surprise, Draco said, "Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"_

_The raven-haired boy bristled. "Yes." His emerald gaze flickered between Crabbe and Goyle as he eyed them warily._

"_Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle." Draco gestured from one to the other as he introduced them, catching Harry's gaze. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."_

_Ron coughed, though it was an unmistakable hidden snigger. _

_Draco glared at him. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." The blonde turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with he wrong sort. I can help you there."_

_Finally, Draco held out his hand, a clear offering of friendship. He had so hoped he would become friends with Harry, as the attraction he felt to the raven-haired boy had only grown since that day in Diagon Alley. He now felt he could name the sensation: he wanted Harry as a friend. _

_But Harry didn't take his hand. _

"_I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said, an air of ice in his voice._

_Draco drew a sharp breath, though gave no sign of any of the pain or disappointment now stabbing at his heart. He was not one to blush, angrily or otherwise, but he was sure a faint pink was now tinting his cheeks. _

_He swallowed. His throat felt dry. He said slowly, "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."_

_Harry and Ron were now both on their feet, and Draco felt Crabbe and Goyle stiffen at his sides, like guard dogs suddenly on alert._

"_Say that again," Ron growled, his face tomato-red._

"_Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Draco jeered._

"_Unless you get out now," Harry said boldly. _

_This was so not the direction Draco wanted his relationship with Harry to go in. But, like the Hogwarts Express itself, their relationship had left the station and there was no stopping it's path down the track labeled "Enemies". Damn. Draco said, "But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."_

_Goyle reached for a Chocolate Frog beside Ron, and the redhead leapt forward, but before he could stop the large boy, Goyle yelped in pain. There was a rat hanging by its teeth off of Goyle's finger, and Goyle was swinging it around frantically, until he finally sent the rodent flying towards the window. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle promptly departed without so much as a goodbye._

_As Draco stormed down the train back to his compartment, his mind was swirling with thoughts and emotions. He remembered the uncanny attraction he had felt towards the raven-haired boy that day in Diagon Alley, how he had so desperately wanted to be friends with him. All chances of that were shot now, and Draco whole-heartedly blamed their identities. The boy just had to be Harry-freaking-Potter, the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. He was a Malfoy, a pureblood wizard of high social standing and a member of a family of Slytherins. He and Harry were as different as ice and fire. Surely _that_ was the initial attraction he had felt, for everyone knows that opposites attract. But, the magnetism doesn't hold if the attraction is one-sided. _

_So any sort of friendship with Harry was shot to hell; they were just _too _different. This left Draco with a dull aching, a gnawing sense of longing. He knew that any sort of positive future with Harry was hopeless, so he decided to fall into the role Fate had seemed to assign him, the role of 'enemy', and didn't try to fight it. It was _hopeless

Poor Draco. If only he'd known that there can _never _be a one-sided attraction between opposite polarities.

---

**:- Slytherin Dorm -:**

Draco lay on his bed, gazing unseeingly up at the ceiling.

_I blame hormones_, he thought bitterly as a face flashed through his mind. Sparkling, green eyes; dark, unruly hair; lips curved into a trademark, warm smile; smooth, suntanned skin; and the world-renowned lightening bolt scar.

Draco groaned, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow, as if it could erase the image. God, it was only their first day back at school and already Draco couldn't stop thinking about Harry. Sure, he'd had the raven-haired boy on his mind all summer, too, but seeing his face for the first time in months had stirred his love anew, causing it to grow and throb like the very organ that represented it, pulsing with life and energy.

_Damn hormones_.

Hormones … if only. Draco knew that the roots of his predicament were not so superficial as simply hormones. No, the roots of his problem ran deeper than that. The roots of his problem ran all the way back to that day four years ago on the Hogwarts Express, when he and Harry had become enemies.

When Draco had first laid eyes on Harry in Madam Malkin's shop, the seeds of affection had been planted. Immediate attraction, an ardent desire for friendship … that had only been the beginning. By the second year, it had all grown into a full-blown crush, and by fifth year, the crush had now blossomed into complete and utter love. Hormones, if anything, were only to blame for the dreams, the urges, the desires; but really, when it all came down to it, there was no reason to blame anything because …

… love was not a fault.

---

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ryou, and Yuugi sat at the table by the hearth in the cozy Gryffindor common room. The boys were _trying_ to do their homework, and Hermione was … well, Hermione was knitting hats for house elves.

Harry had a dull aching in his head that only seemed to grow worse as he thought about the extra essay Snape had assigned him on moonstones. He doubted he'd get anywhere with it tonight. His bed was calling him. He packed up and sat there for a moment. Despite his need to sleep, there was something nagging at the back of his mind, some question he wanted to ask Yuugi and Ryou. It was on the tip of his tongue …

"What was Malik talking about earlier when he said that he'd done 'terrible things'?"

That was it. But it wasn't Harry that'd asked it; Hermione had beat him to it.

Ryou and Yuugi looked up, at first startled by the abrupt inquiry, but then even more startled by what Hermione was asking. They traded nervous glances. Yuugi shook his head.

"It's not our place to say," the small boy said. "But, whatever you may be thinking, it shouldn't be cause for you to think any less of Malik. If we say anything about it, we'll say that he was very … _emotionally unstable _… and wasn't thinking straight … and he had a certain darkness inside of him that was taking over his mind. But, it's all in the past." Yuugi gave a reassuring smile.

Hermione sighed. "I see." She went back to knitting.

_Well, _Harry thought, _that was thoroughly unsatisfying. But, whatever. I just need sleep right now. The hell with stupid explanations; I'm going to bed. _"Goodnight," he said as he rose from his seat.

"Wait Harry," Yuugi said. "I have a question for you guys."

Hermione, Ron, and Harry looked expectantly at the tri-color-haired boy.

Yuugi continued, "Who's Cedric Diggory?"

Hermione dropped her knitting as she stared at Yuugi. Ron paled, which made his freckles stand out considerably. Harry just began to tremble, his fists clenched.

Harry began, in a weak voice, to grudgingly explain. "He … He _was _a student, here. Last year, a competition was held at Hogwarts. Two foreign wizarding schools came to stay at the castle. They each had a student competing, as well as one student from Hogwarts, hence it was called 'The Tri-Wizard Tournament'." He paused and cleared his throat, staring blankly into the crackling fire, the flames reflecting off his glasses. "The student from Hogwarts was … Cedric Diggory. But, when the students for the tournament were being picked, my name somehow came up, as well as his, although I was underage and only one student was supposed to compete from each school. Nevertheless, I participated as well. … During the last leg of the tournament – a maze filled with obstacles, at the heart of which sat the Tri-Wizard Cup – Cedric and I were about to win … together … but … the Cup we were supposed to get, which would signify our victory, turned out to be a portkey laid by a servant to Voldemort, who was undercover as our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He was a Death Eater disguised as an auror by the name of Mad-Eye Moody, and no one realized his true identity before it was too late. It was also he who had somehow got me into the tournament, and then helped me along so that I would win, thereby touching the disguised portkey and being sent straight to Lord Voldemort. It was only supposed to be me; the Death Eater had never planned on _both _Cedric and I joining to win together, and Cedric was sent to Voldemort along with me, and was killed upon arrival by Voldemort himself." Harry was now trembling almost violently, blinking back tears as the suppressed memories surfaced. He continued, "In the end, I dueled Voldemort and managed to ruin his plans to return to power … temporarily … and then carried Cedric's body back to Hogwarts, where everyone was waiting for us. No one knew what had happened; all they saw was me return from the maze carrying the Tri-Wizard Cup and … C-Cedric's corpse." Harry stared down at the table top, noticing his shaking fists. He steadied himself, taking a deep breath.

A deadening silence enveloped the common room and the five students in it. Ryou and Yuugi looked at each other and then at Harry.

"Oh," was all Ryou could say, his tone one of sincere apology and sympathy.

Harry shook his head, his eyes stinging with tears, and said brusquely, "Goodnight," before heading up to his dorm without so much as a glance at his friends.

"Wow," Yuugi murmured once they heard Harry's footsteps disappear up the spiral staircase. "I … I can't imagine what that would be like. I mean, if I had been in that position …" His voice trailed off as he turned to the fire that Harry had been staring into not too long ago.

"It was awful," Ron consented. "It's been real hard on him ever since. It's not enough that he feels guilty about it, but the Ministry is totally trying to ignore the fact that Voldemort's returned. You heard Umbridge, they're trying to pass it all off as lies from an 'attention-seeking' boy and 'senile' old man … that'd be Dumbledore, by the way. You should see the things printed about Harry and Dumbledore in _The Daily Prophet_. They're trying to discredit the both of them."

Atemu and Bakura, who had been sitting on a couch in the shadows of the common room, listening the whole while, turned to each other, and just by the look in their eyes they could tell they both had the same troubles on their minds.

If there really was a dangerous, homicidal Dark wizard abroad, both spirits feared for the safety of their hosts. And here, in Hogwarts, was surely the only place they'd ever learn to defend themselves. But, with Umbridge teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, all likelihood of any of the students getting decent defensive lessons were pretty much shot to hell. Now they realized why the students had been so upset with Umbridge's course aims; at present, it was of utmost importance for everyone who was able to learn how to defend themselves from the Dark forces rising against them.

And, when it came to Dark magick, both the Pharaoh and the thief knew just how dangerous things could get.

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All right, now ... you likey? PLEASE REVIEW! This is **TBC** ... as usual ... and, again, if anyone has any ideas for plot points ... please let me know! I know basically how I want the story to unfold, but I'll still take suggestions! And criticisms ... and ... -_sigh_- flames, too, if there's anyone that really thinks this fic is horrible. Oh, and for some of you readers out there who may not like or feel comfortable with yaoi (a.k.a shounen-ai or slash) ... I did put it in my summary that there will be slash! But hey, give it a shot. After reading my story you may come to like yaoi! Well, anyway, hope you liked the chapter!

**poxmaker: **I was going to put the whole Draco/Yami confrontation in this chapter, but I thought it better to end it where I did, and then put your suggestion in the next chapter. Thanks so much for all of your help so far! -

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	6. The Shadow Realm

**Of Wizards and Duelists …**

_XO'MagickMoon'OX_

**A/N: **Hey everybody! Guess what? I think I managed to write a chapter without using any of J. K.'s dialogue! Aren't you proud of me? And I created some OC's! That's right, **Jason, Gabe, and Karen are ALL MINE!** -huggles- Yae! Oh, and **HUGE thanks to poxmaker** for the Yami/Draco confrontation idea. Hope you like it! Enjoy!

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Time passed at Hogwarts. New relationships bloomed and old ones were rekindled. The three newcomers found themselves fitting in very well with their new friends, although an invisible barrier seemed ever-present between the trio and the rest of the world. Harry carried out his detention with Umbridge, and had the scars on the back of his hand to prove it, though the white markings etched into the flesh of his hand were not something he was willing to show anyone, save Ron and Hermione. Yuugi found himself excelling in Care of Magickal Creatures, as Malik thought he might. Duel monsters or mythical creatures, the small boy had a way with strange beasts. Ryou wasn't doing too bad either in his classes, and Malik was doing wonderfully. It was obvious the blonde belonged in Ravenclaw. The trio also found themselves with the same enemies as their new Gryffindor friends, namely a certain Slytherin and his gang. Atemu and Bakura carried on their conversations, talking about life and love and hopes and fears, discussing all sorts of philosophies they had never even consciously touched upon in their own thoughts until now. Bakura had never once imagined the Pharaoh as being such an excellent conversationalist.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione also found themselves teaching Ryou, Malik, and Yuugi about the Wizarding World. They recounted the evil days when Voldemort was rising to power, all of which they knew through the teachings of their elders, as they hadn't been born or nearly old enough to even say "Lord Voldemort" when it all had taken place. They taught the naïve trio all about Hogwarts (Hermione usually going into intricate detail about something or other) and all about the now-infamous Ministry of Magick. They highlighted some events of previous years, such as the Sorcerer's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, the whole escapade with Sirius (which also led into their explanation of Azkaban prison and the dreadful Dementors), and then elaborated a little further on the events of last year. They had touched briefly upon Hogsmeade before their first trip to the wizarding town, as Ryou, Yuugi, and Malik were, again, clueless as to what Hogsmeade was when McGonagall had first posted to dates of the trips back in late September. They talked to the foreign threesome about the owl post, the Floo Network, portkeys, Apparation, and brooms, which promptly segued into Quidditch. After hearing the game described, Ryou, Yuugi, and Malik wanted to see it in action.

One Saturday afternoon in mid-October, Ryou, Yuugi, Malik, and Hermione found themselves sitting in the stands of the Quidditch field, spectators of the Gryffindor team practice. Scarves, gloves, hats, and jackets pulled on tight, the autumn wind nipped at their faces, a prologue to the icy weather November was sure to bring. Harry and Ron were on the Quidditch pitch, clad in their scarlet-and-gold uniforms, sitting on their brooms. Ryou, Yuugi, and Malik were awed at the fact that the brooms could fly. To hear about it was one thing, but to _see it_ was another. They watched the players zoom this way and that, their robes billowing, hair flying. Ron was the recently-appointed Keeper, Hermione had explained, and Harry was the Seeker, and had been so since first year.

The Gryffindor team was prepping for their match against Slytherin, which was in November. All month the Houses had been at each other, jinxing, hexing, jeering, and bullying, trying to, in any way possible, lessen the other's chance at victory. Even the Heads of House, McGonagall and Snape, were excited about the game and just as determined to win as the students. But one person who was absolutely dreading the match was Ron. Every fiber of his being, it seemed, was stained with trepidation, as he was nowhere near confident in his abilities as a Keeper. Neither were his teammates, though they hid their worry well. What didn't help was Malfoy's constant mocking. Every chance he got he taunted the redhead, and what was worse, Ron was too horrified at the mere mention of the game to ever retaliate. This made Harry and Hermione worry.

"It's freezing!" Ryou murmured as he wrung his gloved hands in a vain attempt to keep them warm. The wind tousled the locks of long, white hair that weren't trapped beneath his wool cap and bit at his cheeks, turning his milky complexion rosy.

Malik, who was sitting next to Ryou, turned to his friend. "Here," he said as he held out his own gloved hands to Ryou. Ryou blinked, unsure of what was being offered. Malik sighed exasperatedly and grabbed Ryou's hands, holding them in his own to heat them with his warmth. Then the blonde's gaze turned back to the practice, which meant that he fortunately didn't see Ryou's already-pink face turn a light shade of crimson.

"Th-Thanks," he mumbled his gratitude.

"Mm-hm," Malik wordlessly replied, apparently transfixed by the practice. Though really, he was simply preoccupied with trying to steady his racing heart and keep his own blush from glowing beneath his tanned face.

So Ryou sat there, with his hands in Malik's lap as slowly feeling began to return to his icy fingers, still blushing … though, thankfully, no one seemed to notice. No one, that is, except for Bakura.

The spirit was sitting in front of his host, and, with one glance over his shoulder, he had noticed the abnormally red tint in the boy's cheeks and the position which he and Malik were in. With an indignant grunt, he turned back to the Quidditch pitch, scowling darkly. Atemu looked over to the thief and tilted his head inquiringly.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, fully aware that Yuugi could hear him if he spoke loudly enough.

Bakura huffed and folded his arms, trying to mask his pain with anger. He stole another quick glance over his shoulder and huffed again, louder this time. Atemu took the hint and looked behind them.

"Ah, I see."

Atemu tugged at his earlobe, pondering the situation and trying to figure out if there was anything to be done about it. He didn't really want to see Bakura so pained, but he didn't want to ruin Ryou and Malik's budding relationship, either.

Luckily, his increasingly indecisive train of thought was interrupted by a cool, silvery laugh, followed by a chorus of giggles, snorts, and sniggers. Six heads turned to see the Slytherin Quidditch team and various others seated a little ways away from them, all laughing at some derisive joke Draco undoubtedly had cracked.

"I mean really, Weasley can't even afford to pay _attention_, let alone buy a decent broom. How the hell did he make Keeper? Obviously Johnson's braids are too tight. What was she _thinking _even letting him onto the Quidditch field? Honestly, he's an embarrassment to the sport!" Draco continued with a sneer.

As if on que, Ron missed another shot, letting the Quaffle fly into the middle ring, and eliciting a bout of roaring laughter from the serpentine spectators. The Gryffindors frowned.

Hermione turned back to the pitch. "Come on, Ron," she hissed. "You can do it."

A swing and a miss. Ron let another Quaffle in. More mocking laughter. The sound was as annoying as the endless wails of a baby, grating, irritating, working its way into the pores of your skin, reverberating through your skull and seeping into your mind, pushing you to the edge of insanity. Or, at least that's what it felt like to the Gryffindors.

Hermione finally burst. "SHUT-UP!" She jumped to her feet, fists clenched at her sides.

The Slytherins sneered.

"What you going to do, Granger?" Malfoy jibed. "Pound my face in? Jinx me?"

"I might," Hermione spat.

"Tsk tsk … you know that'll lose you your badge," Malfoy said with a sly smile. "Can you imagine what the professors will think when they hear that I was assaulted by the Little-Miss-Perfect, Hermione Granger, a prefect nonetheless?"

Hermione growled in fury, her jaw clenched. It wasn't only that Malfoy was being an unbearable bastard, it was also the fact that he was right that was making Hermione's blood boil. She sat back down, flushing furiously.

Draco sniggered. "Good girl."

Bakura chuckled. "Heh, I'd wager the only reason that pretty boy's even here is to see Harry. Bet watching Harry play, getting all sweaty and worked up, really turns him on."

Atemu rolled his eyes. Ryou looked down at Bakura and blinked. What was _that _supposed to mean? He swallowed nervously as he worked up the nerve to talk to his other half. "Hey, Bakura," he murmured.

Without turning around, Bakura growled, "What?"

Ryou cleared his throat. "Eh … what did you … what did you mean by that?"

Both Yuugi and Malik were now watching Ryou. Hermione was still too livid to notice the fact that Ryou was apparently talking to thin air.

"Nothing, Yadonushi," Bakura replied, as if dismissing a naïve child after they'd asked a question about something of which they were too simple-minded to possibly understand.

But Ryou, despite what some may think, was far from naïve. Perhaps timid and quiet, but not naïve. Did Draco have feelings for Harry? But, how could he? He was so mean to Harry and his friends; Draco and Harry were renowned throughout the whole school as unyielding enemies. The white-haired boy couldn't imagine someone as cruel and cold-hearted as Draco loving Harry, who was his rival no less. Was that even possible? It was like Bakura being in love with Ryou.

_That's crazy_, Ryou thought, although even as the notion ran through his mind, Ryou felt an inexplicable pang shoot through his heart.

At that moment, Ron finally blocked a shot, and the Gryffindors cheered. Malik absentmindedly squeezed Ryou's hands, and the pain the boy had felt naught but a second ago in his chest disappeared.

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The autumn wind whispered through the fiery boughs of the trees in the courtyard as the students sat outside on a cool, Sunday afternoon a couple of weeks later. Harry and Ron found themselves, again, struggling through their homework, trying to finish it at a reasonable hour. Hermione was talking with Ryou, Yuugi, Malik, and a few of the Ravenclaws who were tagging along with the Egyptian. Malik had finished his homework, and Ryou and Yuugi were within an hour of completion, so they were putting it off until later that night.

"Say, Malik," a freckled, green-eyed brunette, whom Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ryou, and Yuugi had come to know as Jason Myers, said, "I think Cho fancies you."

Malik rolled his eyes, but Hermione, Ron, and particularly Harry bristled. "She does not," Malik responded.

"Oh she does too." This from Gabriel McNeil, a tall boy with sandy-blonde hair and hazel irises that stood out against his fair skin. "She's fawning over you; all the girls are. Lucky bastard."

"Well, _I'm _not," a fair-haired, tan-skinned girl said. She had a cute, button-nose and high cheek bones, glasses framing her bright blue eyes. Her name was Karen Sanderson.

"Yeah, well," Gabe said, wrinkling his nose, "that's just because you have _different _tastes."

Jason laughed, resulting in a sharp punch to the arm from Karen. "Oh, you're all just a bunch of homophobes," she said sulkily.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, but said nothing, and Harry and Ron traded amused glances. Ryou, Yuugi, and Malik appeared unaffected by the sudden revelation.

"Anyway," Jason said, rubbing his sore arm, "Cho definitely has a crush on you, Malik."

Harry's face had started to turn pink, but only Ron seemed to notice. He put a hand on his friend's forearm. The raven-haired boy looked up and saw Ron smile reassuringly, though what he was reassuring him of neither were certain. Both Hermione and Ron knew that Harry had fancied Cho since last year. He had even asked her to the Yule Ball, but Cedric had beaten him to it.

Ryou was looking a little perturbed by the whole conversation. Malik turned to him. "What's up Ryou?" he asked worriedly.

"Huh? Oh nothing!" Ryou smiled sheepishly.

_Worried you'll lose your boyfriend? _a familiar voice jeered.

_No! _Ryou snapped defensively. _Besides, he's not my boyfriend._

_But you wish he was._

Ryou jumped. Bakura's tone had sounded oddly strained, almost as if he were in pain. The spirit also appeared to have closed the mind-link again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

"Ryou?" Yuugi looked a little concerned. That was when Ryou noticed that everyone was staring at him, probably because he had just randomly jerked and looked startled.

"Oh, it was just a bee," he said, rubbing an imaginary sting on his wrist.

"I didn't see a bee," Karen said bluntly.

"Oh … well …" Ryou scratched the back of his head nervously.

Yuugi and Malik, though, guessed what had really happened – another private conversation with Bakura, no doubt – and quickly changed the subject.

"So, is anything special happening tomorrow?" Yuugi asked suddenly.

"'Tomorrow'?" Jason echoed.

"Yeah," Malik said, picking up on Yuugi's train of thought. "Tomorrow _is _Halloween. Isn't that, like, a special holiday for witches and wizards?"

"Oh of course!" Hermione said. "I'd completely forgotten!"

"Well," Gabe said, "they _do_ decorate the school with pumpkins and special candles, gourds and autumn foliage of the sort. There's a spectacular feast for dinner, and the classes are usually centered one way or another around the holiday. But, that's about it."

"Oh." Yuugi nodded. "All right."

"Why? Did you expect something more?" Hermione wondered.

"Well, it's just that I figured Halloween would be a really big deal around here," Yuugi admitted.

Hermione nodded. "I see how you'd figure that."

"Hey," Gabe said, standing suddenly, "let's go for a walk. I'm tired of sitting here."

Ron and Harry looked up. Both had eager grins on their faces; anything to get away from their torturous homework. But Hermione gave them reprimanding looks and, as if her glare had a paralyzing, if not manipulating, affect, both boys obediently stayed in the courtyard and continued on with their work.

The rest stepped across the brittle grass and through the stone archways that led into the open corridor surrounding the yard. Atemu and Bakura followed, unbeknownst to the students, save Ryou and Yuugi. They continued down the hallway, enjoying the slightly warmer atmosphere doubled with the cool breezes blowing in from the courtyard. Everything was nice, until a certain blonde-haired Slytherin interrupted their fun in search of his own.

"Well, well, well," he drawled. "What's everyone up to on this fine day?" Draco's voice held an air of feigned casualness dripping with its usual underlying venom.

Hermione shook her head with a roll of her eyes, and the group kept walking. Although, she did find it odd that Draco was alone; whether it was by choice or not, he usually had a band of groupies on his heel at all times.

"Hey, I asked you a question," Draco said, dropping his false casual tone.

"I'm sorry, but we don't associate with heartless bastards such as yourself," Karen said with a mocking formality.

"Oh, that's all right. I don't associate with homosexual smart-asses such as _yourself_," Draco snapped with the same air.

"He's one to talk," Bakura sniggered.

Karen grew livid. "Why you …"

"Just ignore him," Hermione advised icily.

"What was that, _mudblood_?" Draco carried out the word with such arrogance that Hermione, her anger doubled with hate for Draco and pent-up frustration from the Quidditch practice bubbling over her self-control, spun on her heel and, with one swift movement, launched her fist into his gut.

He gasped and fell back against the wall, clutching his stomach and whimpering pathetically. "You'll … pay for … that," he rasped through clenched teeth. He raised his face, blonde bangs overshadowing his flashing, metallic eyes. He pulled his wand from his robe.

Before anyone else could draw theirs, Draco pointed it at Hermione and shouted, "_Rictusempra_!" A torrent of silver light shot from the tip of his wand and showered Hermione. She immediately fell to the floor in a roaring fit of laughter, holding her sides as though a pair of invisible hands were tickling her mercilessly.

Draco straightened himself with a smirk as Hermione began to tear from the effort of such laughter.

Malik knelt down and waved his hand over the jinxed girl. "_Finite Incantatem_!" he commanded, and Hermione's laughter quelled. Malik smiled, pleased and a bit shocked that he had done the spell right. Hermione sat on the floor, gasping for breath, before turning to Draco and glaring daggers at him.

Gabe unsheathed his wand from his robe and pointed it at the blonde. "_Furnunculus_!" he cried at the same time as Draco shouted, "_Protego_!"

A sickly green light shot from the end of Gabe's wand, and simultaneously white sparks flew from Draco's. Green clashed with white as Draco's charm encircled him, protecting him from Gabe's jinx. Once all light had cleared, Draco was scowling, his fair, porcelain skin red and irritated, rather than sporting the large, ugly boils Gabe had intended.

Jason had pulled out his wand and was pointing it at Draco. Hermione and Karen were doing the same.

"Don't be an idiot, Malfoy," Hermione said, her wand tip inches from his chin. "You're outnumbered."

Draco snarled, his fangs bared, and looked about to stubbornly spout another jinx when Yuugi cried, "Guys, stop!"

Everyone turned to the small boy, who had a pleading look in his eyes. Seeing he had everyone's attention, he repeated, "Stop."

"Stay out of this, midget," Draco jeered.

Yuugi flushed angrily. He wasn't _that _short.

Draco waved his wand and shouted, "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" before anyone could react, sending Yuugi up in the air. The smaller boy yelped in surprise, before he grew livid with indignation.

"Put me down!" he demanded.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Karen cried, jabbing her wand at Draco. His wand flew from his hand at the same time as Hermione cried, "_Impedimenta_!" as Yuugi went crashing back down to the ground with a scream. He slowed just inches above the cold, stone floor before landing gently.

"Thanks," he breathed. Hermione nodded.

Ron and Harry now entered the hallway. They had come running upon seeing the flashes of light and sparks and hearing all the commotion. After assessing the situation, the two went to stand by Hermione, pulling out their wands and aiming them at the Slytherin.

Draco huffed and, finding himself disarmed and thoroughly outnumbered, looked ready to leave the scene. Order began to settle itself back into the corridor.

Atemu, however, was not content with simply letting it all go. Draco had done his aibou a great injustice, and he needed to pay. Ruby eyes flashing, mouth fixed into a snarl, Atemu disappeared into the Puzzle, which immediately began to glow with a golden light.

Bakura smirked. "Oh, Draco's in for it now."

_Yami_, Yuugi said through their mind-link. _What are you doing?_

_Draco's not going to get away with that, aibou, _Atemu answered mischievously.

_Yami … NO –_

Yuugi's last words were cut short as the Pharaoh took control of his partner's body. Everyone, save Ryou and Malik, was now staring incredulously at Yuugi's Puzzle, unaware of the shift within the tri-color-haired boy. Even Draco was struck speechless by the bizarre glow of the amulet, and vaguely remembered something similar happening on the train.

Atemu grinned wickedly and turned his sights on Draco. The blonde felt himself instinctively shrink under the formidable gaze. He couldn't place it exactly, but he knew that this wasn't the same timid boy he had just taunted minutes ago.

Atemu, with a few brusque steps, walked up to Draco, grabbed him by the collar of his black turtleneck sweater, and pinned him against the wall with unbelievable dexterity and strength. Draco yelped as a pang shot up his spine from the force of being thrust against the stone. 'Yuugi's' now-garnet eyes flashed dangerously.

"Listen to me, boy," Atemu growled. "You are to _never _hurt Yuugi, understand?"

Malik cleared his throat. Atemu turned to him, and Malik said quietly, "You _are _Yuugi."

Atemu blinked. "Oh, right. You are to never hurt _me_. If you ever point that wand at … me … again, you will sorely regret it."

Draco, despite looking scared and confused out of his wits, snapped, "Who the hell do you think you are!"

Atemu narrowed his eyes. Suddenly, a bolt of energy surged through the air, and the atmosphere began to ripple. Atemu began to radiate a violet light, and the Puzzle again began to glow, though not with a transitioning aura. The wall behind Draco began to melt into a marble of purple and black, swirling and spinning into an unknown abyss. A dark mist filled the corridor, the glowing of the Puzzle cutting through the haze like golden knives. A deadly sensation crept through the air, smothering everyone with its chill and foreboding.

The Shadow Realm.

"Wh-What's going on?" Hermione breathed.

"I have no bloody idea!" Karen cried, terrified. Everyone else was speechless with fright. Ryou and Malik didn't seem as afraid as the others, but that was only because they knew what was going on, though they were nevertheless scared.

"Pharaoh!" Malik shouted. "What are you doing!"

But Atemu didn't hear them, he was focused solely on Draco, who was trembling uncontrollably, his silver eyes wide. Yuugi's spirit was fruitlessly tugging at his yami's arm, trying to make him stop. If Atemu hadn't been holding Draco by the collar, the boy would've been pulled into the Shadow Realm and would now be spinning about among the monsters and souls trapped in the abyss. Dark shadows moved about behind Draco in the swirling mass of violet and black, their eyes glowing ominously, growls and screeches and predatory purrs sounded from the silhouettes.

"Are we clear?" Atemu said evilly. "You are never to bother me again, or my friends."

Draco nodded fervently, unable to speak. He looked on the verge of tears as he peered warily over his shoulder and yelped.

"Yami, stop it! Now!" an invisible Yuugi pleaded.

Finally, the Pharaoh acknowledged the boy, and looked down at the spirit. His breath caught at the fear and pain he saw on Yuugi's face. Immediately, the portal behind Draco melted back into solid wall and the haze disappeared, taking the ominous air with it. Draco's collar slipped from Atemu's fingers as his fist unclenched, and the boy fell to the floor in a whimpering heap. The Pharaoh began to tremble, his eyes still locked with Yuugi's.

He shook his head and looked around, as if suddenly realizing what he'd done. He saw the other students with equally terrified and wary expressions, all gaping at him, and Malik and Ryou watching him incredulously. Even Bakura looked awestruck, and was staring at Atemu with … reverence? Yeah, that was Bakura.

"Y-Yuugi …" The Pharaoh stammered ashamedly, turning to his aibou. "I'm … sorry …"

The Puzzle flared to life again, and Yuugi melded back with his body, the Pharaoh disappearing into the Item. Moments later, he appeared beside Bakura, who grinned and put a hand on the Pharaoh's shoulder proudly. Coming from Bakura, it wasn't encouraging. Atemu fazed through a nearby wall and left, Bakura following suit, his expression now one of great concern. Yuugi was standing, holding his head, and everyone else was silent, speechless.

Draco, naturally, was the first to speak. He got to his feet and took off down the hallway, shouting something like "He's insane. You're all insane!" before turning the corner and disappearing. Karen, Gabe, and Jason traded nervous glances before they, too, departed with hurried farewells to Malik. He nodded wearily.

Hermione, Ron, Harry, Ryou, Yuugi, and Malik were left alone in the hallway, with Yuugi leaning back against the wall, his eyes closed. Then, he opened them and looked around at his friends.

"I … I gotta go," he said quietly. He slipped down the corridor and headed for his dorm. He really just needed to get away from everyone at the moment.

Ryou sighed tiredly, and Malik shook his head, eyes gazing unseeingly at the floor.

Silence, all except for the wind whispering through the trees in the courtyard.

Then, Ron burst, "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?"

Everyone jumped. Ryou and Malik glanced at each other and shook their heads.

"It's … hard to explain," Malik said.

Hermione frowned angrily. "That's not good enough!" Ryou and Malik looked at her. She continued, "Look, we know that you all are good friends, and that you have a history together, one that's obviously very complicated, but you're our friends now, too, and we'd like you to _fill us in _on what is going on! 'It's hard to explain' isn't going to cut it any longer! Tell us," she commanded, "… tell us everything we need to know."

"We … We have to think about it," Ryou said.

"Ryou –" Hermione started.

"No." The sudden assertiveness in the usually quiet boy stunned the others into silence. He continued, "We really do have to think about it. What you 'need to know' is very hard to understand and just as hard to explain. _We will think about it _and tell you once we've talked together."

With that, Ryou headed down the hallway, and Malik followed, leaving the other three standing there with incredulous expressions.

Ryou and Malik walked in silence for a little while down the empty corridor, until Malik said, "That was great. Quick thinking."

Ryou nodded and looked up at the blonde. "Thanks." He smiled.

Malik tilted his head. Ryou was adorable when he smiled.

Ryou swallowed. Why was Malik staring at him like that? He felt heat rise in his cheeks as he averted his gaze.

Malik gave a small grin. Ryou was also adorable when he blushed.

The two kept walking in silence. Malik's mind was reeling. Since they'd arrived at Hogwarts, he'd felt his feelings for the white-haired boy evolving. He wasn't sure exactly where he was at the moment, but he was sure he was at least crushing on the boy. And he could tell that Ryou had feelings for him. Didn't he? Well, there was only one way to find out …

Malik stopped and grabbed Ryou's arm before gently pinning him against the wall, pressing his body up against the smaller boy's.

Ryou gasped. "M-Malik! What're you –"

The rest of his words were muffled as Malik pressed his lips against Ryou's. Ryou, with his eyes wide and heart racing, bristled at first, but once he realized what was going on, he relaxed and closed his eyes, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Malik's lips were very soft … and warm … Ryou reached around the blonde's neck and entwined his fingers in the Egyptian's hair, pulling him, if at all possible, closer.

_Yes_, Malik thought, _he definitely likes me._

Chastity gave way to passion as Malik nipped at Ryou's lower lip, resulting in a soft moan from the white-haired boy. Then back to kissing. Ryou felt Malik's tongue sliding across the seam of his mouth, trying to pry his lips apart. Ryou granted the other entrance and soon felt Malik's tongue inside his mouth. Ryou tasted luscious, like some sort of sugary fruit, and the blonde decided he liked the taste.

Soon, the two began to run short of breath, and grudgingly pulled apart. Panting and smiling, Malik pressed his forehead against Ryou's, and violet met brown as they locked eyes. Malik kissed the tip of the other's nose, and Ryou wrapped his arms around the blonde lovingly, before they continued down the hallway, heading towards the Ravenclaw tower.

---

"Atemu!" Bakura called. He glided up to perch atop a stone archway that led from the courtyard to the school grounds surrounding the castle. The Pharaoh had slipped away from him for the second time in the past twenty minutes. "Dammit, where are you?"

"Right here, idiot," a depressed growl sounded.

Bakura looked to his left to see Atemu sitting on the same archway. How had he not seen him? The Pharaoh was a tricky bastard. Bakura sat down, his phantom legs dangling over the archway, next to Atemu, who was staring blankly at the ground.

"Hey, come on now, stop beating yourself up over this," Bakura advised in an uncharacteristically friendly manner. Really, he convinced himself, his motives for helping the king were selfish. After all, if Atemu went around sulking and acting all depressed, he'd be no fun to talk to anymore. Really … he was doing it all for himself. Wasn't he? Whatever; it didn't matter.

"But, I … just can't believe I did that," Atemu repeated for probably the sixth time. "I just couldn't control myself; I was so angry."

"And you had a damn right to be! That Draco is a royal pain-in-the-ass …" Bakura tried to reason. "I mean, really –" Bakura gasped, his breath hitching.

Atemu turned inquisitively to the thief. "What?"

Bakura blinked, brushing his fingertips over his mouth. Then he scowled. "Why that little bastard! How dare he touch _my _yadonushi!" Bakura leapt to his feet, eyes flashing, fangs bared.

"What?" Atemu repeated.

"Malik! He … He … He _kissed _Ryou!"

"You felt it?"

"Of course I felt it! We're linked, remember? Just like you and Yuugi."

"Oh, right."

Bakura turned to face the school. "I'm going to kill him!" he ranted.

"Bakura, calm down," Atemu urged standing up as well. "You can't stop them from kissing each other."

"The hell I can't!"

"No! Bakura, don't do anything to ruin their relationship. You're already on strained terms with Ryou. If you really love him, you'll let him do what he wants and be happy."

Bakura blinked back tears, his mouth a thin line. "But, I … I want him. I don't want to share him with … with Malik," he said softly. "I'll never be the one to … make him happy, will I? It'll always be someone else who pampers him and cares for him and protects him … never me, although I'd gladly do any of those things for him. I just … I can't."

Atemu put a hand on Bakura's shoulder. "Why not?"

Bakura turned to the Pharaoh, his eyes glistening with tears. "Because … it's not physically possible. I don't have a body; I can't show him how much I care about him with my actions. All I have are my words, and what good are my words? He won't believe me if I tell him I love him! I have to prove it to him. But how do I do that? How? It's not possible! And even if I could somehow make him see how I feel about him, it wouldn't matter because he won't love me back. So I can't tell him! How awkward would that be, to have a spirit that loves you sharing your body? If anything it'll just put more distance between us, and that's the last thing I want. I just … I want him. I want to be able to love him, and I want him to love me back! … It's all hopeless. Isis hates me."

"Bakura …"

The thief collapsed back onto the archway, his legs beneath him, as he cried. Atemu sat beside him, his woes temporarily forgotten as he tried to console Bakura. But he couldn't think of anything to say to the thief, because he knew that everything Bakura had just said was true …

For both of them.

---

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Well? Likey? No likey? Tell me! **TBC **as usual. Did you like my OC's? Did you like that little duel? Did you like the ending? TELL MEE! I must know! And if anyone has any suggestions, please share them!

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	7. Samhain

**Of Wizards and Duelists …**

_XO'MagickMoon'OX_

**A/N: **Yae! Another chapter void of any of J. K.'s dialogue! I think I deserve a cookie. Well, let me warn you now that this chapter **might get a little confusing**. If you can follow it, great, and if you can't well, just e-mail me with any questions you might have if you really want to know something that you didn't understand. I will be glad to answer! Okay now, enjoy!

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* * *

---

Ryou and Malik were almost to the Ravenclaw tower, Malik with his arm around Ryou's waist, when the white-haired boy stopped. The Egyptian looked down inquisitively at the other, who was looking strangely paler than usual. Then, he dropped to his knees, one hand pushed beneath his bangs on his forehead.

"Ryou, what's wrong?" Malik asked, kneeling down next to the other boy.

"I … I don't feel so … good," Ryou whispered, screwing his eyes shut. His hand fell to his side.

Malik reached up and felt Ryou's forehead and gasped. "You're burning up!" He slid his hand down to Ryou's fevered cheek, and then his neck, confirming his diagnosis. He could only remember one other time when Ryou had been this hot, and that had been that night in the carriage when Bakura had knocked his host out.

Ryou's breathing became ragged. "It's … Bakura …" he gasped.

Malik scowled. "Why that son of a –"

"No," Ryou interrupted. "He's … angry … and in … pain …" Ryou opened his eyes, which were glazed with fever. "This is a … side-effect of … his emotions …" Ryou tried to peer through his and his yami's mind-link to figure out what was wrong. His eyes widened, and he drew a sharp breath.

"What?"

Ryou blinked. Though he couldn't see Bakura exactly, through their connection he just instinctively knew that … "He's crying."

It was Malik's turn to blink. "Come again?"

"He's crying, Malik … he's actually _crying _…" Ryou staggered to his feet, and once he'd collected himself, took off at a run down the corridor.

Malik followed. Coming up alongside the other boy, he said, "Where are we going?"

"To find Bakura," Ryou answered as they turned a corner. His face was contorted with pain, as if the simple act of moving caused his head to throb and his world to spin. But he kept going.

Malik said, "You're in no condition to be running, Ryou. Why do you care what's wrong with Bakura, anyway?"

Ryou didn't answer. It wasn't that he didn't want to answer, it was that he himself didn't even know. So he just shrugged and continued down the corridors.

"Where is he?" Malik asked after a few moments of wordless silence.

"Outside … at that archway that … marks the entrance to the grounds around the school," Ryou panted. They pushed past a group of second-year Hufflepuffs and hurried down a flight of stairs. Ryou paused at the bottom to catch his breath. With his hands on his knees, he leaned against the railing. Malik stood beside him, waiting for the boy to regain his energy. Then, Ryou straightened and continued running down this hallway and that, Malik at his heel, until he sprang into the courtyard and ran down the pathways and small sets of stone stairs, dodging bushes and trees and the like until he reached the archway where Atemu and Bakura were still sitting.

Ryou stopped, gasping for breath, and looked up at the spirits. Ryou, of course, couldn't see Atemu, but he knew that the other spirit was there. Malik could see neither Atemu nor Bakura, but he nonetheless stood beside the white-haired boy and looked up with him.

The freestanding archway stood at about fifteen feet and had emerald ivy climbing up the two granite pillars that supported the top beam of stone, which was carved to curve slightly. Bakura sat with his legs beneath him and Atemu with his dangling over the edge, one arm around the thief's shoulder. They had been sitting in silence for nearly ten minutes with nothing but Bakura's crying filling the air. Bakura had his head in his hands, white locks spilling over his shoulders, phantom body racked with sobs. Atemu, too, had tears in his eyes, but refused to let them fall. Upon seeing Ryou and Malik, the Pharaoh stiffened and squeezed Bakura's shoulder, though he knew that he was invisible to both boys. Bakura's head snapped up and he turned to Atemu, who was staring at the ground. The thief followed Atemu's gaze, and upon seeing his host and the young Egyptian, promptly fell backwards off of the archway with a yelp.

Atemu slid off the archway and gracefully glided to the ground, then went to help Bakura up. Once on his feet, Bakura immediately turned his back to Ryou and Malik, wiping the tears from his face. Then he spun on his heel and plastered a trademark scowl on his face. The blotchy complexion and puffy eyes did nothing to help his façade.

"What do you want?" he growled at Ryou.

But Ryou was speechless. Fever gone, he just gaped at the spirit.

Bakura folded his arms and huffed impatiently. "Well?"

Ryou just shook his head, still unable to speak. Bakura had been _crying_. Ryou had _never _seen his yami cry. His yami, the scowling, sardonic, sadistic, cruel, arrogant, homicidal Thief King had been _crying_. It wasn't possible, was it? To cry you needed to have a heart; Bakura didn't have a heart, did he? Did he have feelings and emotions like everyone else?

"Yes!" Bakura snapped indignantly.

Ryou blushed. Bakura had been reading his thoughts. The white-haired boy shook his head, before asking quietly, "Why … Why were you … crying?"

"None of your Ra-damned business, and if you even _think_ about reading my memory through our link to find out, I will kill you in your sleep."

Ryou whimpered, and Atemu hit Bakura in the back of the head. The thief stumbled forward before spinning around and shouting, "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?"

"Why did you say that?" Atemu asked, fully aware that neither Ryou nor Malik could hear him. "You're not helping your situation any by threatening him, you know."

Bakura growled, but said nothing. He turned back to Ryou, whom Malik had his arms wrapped protectively around. The thief felt a familiar stinging in his eyes, but held it back, and masked the pain he was sure was flashing across his face. The Ring around Ryou's neck began to glow and the air rippled before Bakura disappeared inside the Item, retreating to his mind chamber in search of solitude.

But the thief hadn't been fast enough to hide his emotions from his host. Ryou had seen the hurt on Bakura's face as clearly as he had seen him sobbing naught but five minutes ago.

---

The milky light of the waxing moon shown through the leaves of a maple tree that stood proud in the courtyard. The stretch of velvet black canvas above Bakura's head was dotted with stars, and the October wind blew through his snowy tresses, tossing them about his porcelain face, and kissing his skin. The stone bench was cold beneath him and the tree trunk sturdy at his back. He leaned into its stiff embrace, wishing it was not a tree behind him but a person, someone warm and soft, someone he loved. He shivered in the cold, and cursed his stupidity of not dressing warmly enough. Surely now Ryou would get sick because of him, because he was too arrogant to wear a hat, or even a scarf. Dammit.

But he didn't move, didn't retreat into the shelter of the castle, because it had been so long since he'd gotten to sit and look at the moon, so long since he'd been able to smell the fresh, sweet scents of the nighttime world, so long since he'd felt the wind at his face and gotten to watch the way the tree boughs dappled everything beneath it with the silver light of the white orb hanging full and round in the sky. Gods, he missed having a body. Possessing his host was the only means he had of obtaining a body, and it had been hell to sneak out of the Gryffindor dorm and slip into the courtyard unnoticed. But the quick mind and skilled, nimble movements of an accomplished thief had helped him along, helped him reach the courtyard undetected. And now, he was alone, in the quiet of the night, enjoying being alive, or as close to it as he could get. But his happiness was stunted by his aching heart, he noted dolefully.

"Ryou?"

Bakura's head snapped up, his eyes scanning the night. Who he spotted wading through the shadows of the courtyard made his mind spin in confusion. The aged, sagely face, long silvery beard, glinting half-moon spectacles, sweeping violet robes …

Dumbledore?

"Damn," Bakura swore under his breath. "Busted."

"Not quite, Mr. Bakura," Dumbledore said as he sat down beneath the tree next to the thief. His whispery voice held an air of wisdom and experience, and at the same time, an indescribable mischief that made one shudder. "Might I ask what you are doing out here, this late at night? Or rather, this early in the morning?"

Bakura frowned. "What are you talking about? What time is it?"

"It is nearly quarter of four in the morning, Mr. Bakura."

"… Three hours?" Bakura said more to himself than Dumbledore. Time seemed to have slipped away …

"Pardon?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing. It's just, I can't believe I've been out here for so long."

"Yes, well, I suppose … it's a lot like drinking water after being stranded in the desert for a long time; you just can't get enough of it," Dumbledore said shrewdly.

"What?"

"It's been a long time since you've been _alive_, hasn't it –"

The thief's eyes widened.

"– Bakura?"

---

Atemu was sitting by the window, looking out at the nearly-full moon. How uncanny, that it would be a full moon on Halloween night, which was the following evening?

The Pharaoh averted his garnet gaze from the glassy pane to Yuugi's bed. He watched the boy's chest rise and fall gently, his eyelids seeming to twitch with a dream. Atemu smiled. Then he turned to Ryou's empty bed, and his smile melted into a thoughtful frown. Bakura had been out for a while now; he'd left a little after midnight. Atemu had tried to talk him out of it. Surely if he was caught he'd get Ryou in trouble.

"_Oh come on now, Atemu. Not even you and your prissy royal guards could catch me. There's no way the professors will," Bakura had assured as he'd slipped into Ryou's school robes and sneakers._

"_But even so, how does Ryou feel about you taking his body out for a joyride?" the Pharaoh had pointed out._

"_He's asleep in his mind chamber. He won't even know; he went to bed, and he'll wake up in the morning without knowing that I snuck out, granted he doesn't awake inside the Ring, which I doubt he will."_

"_I still don't think it's a good idea …"_

"_Atemu, don't you ever miss it?"_

"_Miss what?"_

"_Being _alive_. Feeling the cool air on your skin, the wind in your hair, breathing in that peaceful scent of the night, just sitting in tranquility with no duels to play, no insidious plots to stop, no adrenaline, no panic … just you and the world and the heart beating within your breast, left to your own thoughts, with only the heavens for company. Don't you miss it?" Bakura had said with a sad, nostalgic tone. _

"_Heh, I never knew you were such a poet," Atemu had replied. Then, more seriously, he had said, "You used to do that? Just sit at night, alone and at peace?"_

"_Yeah. Just climb up to a rooftop or sit in a tree and watch the night sky. I swear the night was never so beautiful as it was hanging over Egypt." Bakura had sighed then, and hiked the collar of Ryou's robes up around his pale neck before disappearing out the door._

Atemu sighed, turning back to the window. _No, Bakura, I'd never done that_, he thought sadly. _I'd never sat on the roof and just enjoyed the night. I was always in my room, in the palace, and the only glimpses I got of the night were through my window. _

One night, Atemu decided, he'd ask Yuugi if he could borrow his body to go and sit outside. One night …

---

"How … How'd you …" Bakura was at a loss for words, gaping at the Headmaster, who was grinning through his beard.

"How did I know that you were not Ryou?" Dumbledore gave a small laugh. "Oh, I've been following your stories for a while now, you and the Pharaoh, Ryou, Yuugi, Malik … Isis and Rishid, too, and Seto Kaiba. I know about the Shadow Games, I know about the Millennium Items. They are all simply another branch of magick, Bakura, you see, and I am a knowledgeable wizard. I know well my craft."

Bakura, after recovering from the initial shock, finally found his voice. "… How did you learn of it all?"

"Oh, well …" Dumbledore sat back and folded his hands in his lap. "Yuugi is very popular in Japan, is he not? The 'King of Games', I believe. Well, if you will know, I was in Japan a couple of years back, in Domino, in fact, and they were showing his duel with Mr. Kaiba on the Muggle television. I happened to come upon it, and when I saw that boy and the Millennium Puzzle around his neck, something stirred in my memory. I remembered learning somewhere about the magick of ancient Egypt, the Shadow Games and the like. Well, needless to say, I did my research. I learned all about the Millennium Items and Duel Monsters, got my hands on some rare pieces of documentation telling about the pharaoh who created the Items and sealed the monsters away, along with all the secrets of Shadow Magick. I learned of the two spirits, the pharaoh and the," Dumbledore cast Bakura a sidelong glance, "Thief King trapped within the Millennium Items, the Puzzle and the Ring. I saw that stone tablet in the Domino Museum, the one of Atemu and Set's duel … yes, High Priest Set, Seto Kaiba's past life. I also followed the Duel Monsters tournaments, watched the various characters that fought for possession of the Millennium Items. Pegasus, was one, wasn't he? Ah, and Malik. Mmhm … he had a bit of trouble during that Battle City tournament, didn't he? And you, too, Bakura. I know about your theft of the Millennium Eye –"

Bakura jumped, startled. How did he …?

"– but, don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Those are your affairs to deal with. My part was only in bringing Ryou, Yuugi, and Malik to Hogwarts to open their eyes to the world of magick and perhaps awaken and advance their dormant skills." Dumbledore's tone dropped to a bare whisper so that Bakura had to strain his ears to hear his next words, "I am here for you – any of you – if you need anything at any time. I don't believe it was mere coincidence that I saw Yuugi that day in Japan. You believe in _destiny_, yes?" Dumbledore nodded curtly and stood, but it was impossible to miss the knowing glint in his eyes. As he began to leave to go back inside, he said, "Oh, and Bakura, please don't stay up much longer. You may be a spirit, but Ryou is human, don't forget, and prone to illness."

"…" Bakura watched Dumbledore fade into the shadows, and it wasn't long until the Headmaster's presence had completely disappeared from the area. All was still again.

Bakura looked up at the moon through the trees. He shivered. Quickly, the tomb robber rose to his feet and retreated to the warmth of the school, hoping whole-heartedly that Ryou didn't catch a cold.

---

The next morning dawned gray and cool, the sky in the Great Hall a sheet of pearly white. Yuugi, Ryou, Hermione, Harry, and Ron could hear the din of the Hall as they made their way down the corridor for breakfast. As soon as they stepped through the doorway, however, the noise died down, and all eyes were turned on the group.

The five students looked around confusedly as they made their ways warily to their seats. The others had stopped watching them, but the usual din of the Hall was now reduced to whispers and murmurs.

"What's wrong with everyone?" Harry asked as he sat down beside Neville. Immediately, his mind jumped to _The Daily Prophet_. "What has the Ministry said about me this time?" he wondered angrily.

"Actually," Neville answered as he took a bite of his cereal, "it's not about you this time."

"Oh?" Hermione raised her eyebrows inquiringly.

"Yeah." Fred leaned over the table towards Hermione, Harry, and Ron. "It's about Yuugi."

Yuugi gagged on his juice. Recovering quickly, he squeaked, "Me? What did I do?"

George joined the conversation. "According to Malfoy, you're an insane Dark wizard, an undercover servant to the Dark Lord."

"What?" Harry cried, staring incredulously at George. "That's crazy." He turned earnestly to Yuugi. "Isn't it?"

"Of course!" Yuugi answered exasperatedly. "I … I've never even met the Dark Lord, and I don't know any Dark magick!"

"Then why's Malfoy telling everyone that you used Dark magick on him the other day and nearly threw him into some Dark hole?" Fred wondered.

"I …" Yuugi froze, his spoon slipping through his fingers as realization dawned on him. "Yami," he breathed. He turned to Ryou. "They're talking about when Yami opened that portal to the Shadow Realm!" he whispered, aghast.

Ryou shook his head. "But how're we supposed to convince everyone that, A: it wasn't you, and B: it wasn't Dark magick. Although, Shadow Magick, I guess, in a way, _is _dark magick, but not the kind they're thinking of."

Yuugi groaned. "I don't know."

That was when the small boy noticed everyone staring warily at him, including Harry, Ron, and Hermione. How was he supposed to get them to trust him? How could he explain what had really happened? This was not good, not good at all.

Finally, Hermione spoke. "Well, Yuugi, I don't know what happened yesterday, though, from what I saw, I wouldn't find it hard to believe if the rumors were true." As Yuugi opened his mouth to protest, Hermione continued, "_But_, I know you well enough to say that I doubt you're a servant of the Dark Lord. Although, I would like to know what's going on, like I told Ryou yesterday." Hermione looked pointedly at the said white-haired boy. "You said you'd talk it over with Malik and Yuugi, Ryou. Well, are you going to tell us what's going on or not?"

Yuugi asked Ryou, "What's she talking about?"

Ryou flushed sheepishly. He'd forgotten to tell Yuugi about what had transpired after he'd retreated to the dorm. Moreover, he'd forgotten to talk with his friends about whether or not they should let the others in on the little secrets they were keeping. Well, maybe 'forgotten' wasn't the right word. More like, 'had been preoccupied at the time'. He grinned at the thought as his mind flashed on Malik and the Ravenclaw common room. The Ravenclaw couch was _much _comfier than the one in Gryffindor tower.

As if on que, Malik appeared behind Ryou and snaked his arms lovingly around the boy's neck, bending down to rest his chin on Ryou's head. Yuugi looked up at the blonde. "Hey Malik," he greeted, though his voice was void of its usual cheeriness.

"Yuugi, what's up?" Malik asked worriedly.

"You've heard the rumors, haven't you?" Yuugi asked.

Malik grimaced. "Oh, yeah … that. Look, they're just rumors; they'll blow over eventually."

"Not these, they won't," Ron chimed in. "This is Hogwarts, mate. Rumors spread like wildfire and are just as damaging."

Malik removed himself from Ryou and sat down beside the boy. No one had really seemed to pick up on their atypical affectionateness, which was, at the moment, probably for the best.

"Malik," Hermione said, "have you three talked about it yet?"

"What?" Malik replied. "Oh, you mean about what happened yesterday, with you wanting to know what's going on?" He, like Ryou, flushed. "Uh … no, we kinda … forgot."

"Forgot what?" Yuugi still wanted to know.

"We'll explain later, Yuug," Ryou answered.

Meanwhile, Atemu and Bakura were in the corridor outside the Hall. Both were feeling a little out of sorts, though neither knew why. It wasn't a bad feeling, it was just sort of … strange. But they pushed the inexplicable sensations aside.

"So, did you have a nice time outside last night?" the Pharaoh inquired.

"Yeah," Bakura replied thoughtfully. "But, something _peculiar _happened."

"Oh?"

The thief nodded and recounted everything that had happened with Dumbledore. Once he'd finished, Atemu was looking slightly disconcerted.

"I don't know whether that's encouraging or disturbing," he murmured.

"Same here."

That was when students started to file out of the Great Hall. Some, oddly enough, seemed to look straight at the spirits, who were standing against the wall, waiting for their hosts, as though they could see them. But the stares were always quickly averted, the student always blinking or shaking their head disbelievingly. Eventually, Draco and his gang stepped through the doorway. He was talking rather importantly, the people around him hanging on his every word.

Atemu and Bakura strained to hear what he was saying.

"Really, it was quite frightening. I could've died, been tossed into some Dark dimension. That Yuugi and his friends are nothing but trouble. No doubt they're working for the Dark Lord …" The rest of Draco's words were lost as he moved down the corridor.

Atemu and Bakura traded nervous glances. This was not good.

---

Murmurs, whispers, and stares followed Yuugi around all day. By lunchtime, as Ron had predicted, the entire school knew about the events of yesterday. The tales ranged from Yuugi roughing Draco up a bit to him nearly casting the Killing Curse, but either way every rumor was far from the truth. Some people – Gryffindors, mostly – kept grinning at the small boy and giving him thumbs up for standing up to "that Slytherin git", while everyone else just kept their distances.

Yuugi sighed as he sank onto a stone bench in the courtyard that evening after Defense Against the Dark Arts. "This has got to have been the worst day," Yuugi moaned as he put his head in his hands.

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ryou sat down around him. Atemu and Bakura were not too far away, Atemu feeling as guilty as ever.

"This is all my fault," he said, drifting towards his partner.

Bakura followed. "Oh Ra, will you _stop _wallowing?" he growled.

As the spirits neared the group of students, Ryou looked up at Bakura, who automatically scowled down at him as he passed. Atemu sat down next to Yuugi and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. Yuugi looked up.

"Aibou … I'm sorry about … everything that I did yesterday," Atemu said quietly.

Before Yuugi could respond, everyone gasped. The tri-color-haired boy and the two spirits looked around inquiringly. Hermione, Ron, Harry, and even Ryou were staring at Atemu with wide-eyed, gaping expressions.

"Wh-Who's that?" Hermione asked, pointing at Atemu.

Yuugi blinked. He stared at Atemu, who stared back. "Uh … who's who?" Yuugi asked.

"That … That man sitting next to you … he … he looks just like you," Hermione answered shakily.

"You … can see me?" Atemu wondered, shocked, his ruby eyes wide.

"Of course we can see you … why wouldn't we be able to?" Ron said.

Atemu scratched the back of his head. "Because … I don't have a physical body."

Bakura shook his head and looked up to the darkening sky where already a ghostly image of the full moon was appearing. A full moon on Halloween … What were the odds?

---

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were seated on the couch in the abandoned common room, Crookshanks curled contently on his master's lap, purring softly. Yuugi and Ryou were sitting in the large, cushiony chairs opposite the couch, and Malik was standing at the hearth, his back against the wall, arms crossed. As soon as the group had left the courtyard, Ryou had went to fetch Malik, who was most likely at the Great Hall. After being pulled away from the feast, Malik had followed Ryou upstairs to the Gryffindor tower. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace. It's cheer seemed unaffected by the tense, awkward atmosphere. Atemu and Bakura were beside their respective hosts, Atemu sitting on the arm of Yuugi's chair and Bakura sitting on … well, sitting on Ryou, stretched out across his lap, to be precise, back against one armrest, legs crossed over the other. Hermione, Ron, and Harry were aghast at the audacity of the white-haired spirit, to simply sit on Ryou without the boy's consent, but, then again, none of them really _knew_ Bakura, now did they?

The said trio were staring at the two spirits. And yes, they _could _see them, just as clearly as their hosts could see them. What was more, Malik could see them, and Yuugi and Ryou could see each other's yamis, not just their own. And everyone could hear the spirits, as well. It was as if Atemu and Bakura solidly existed on the physical plane, and weren't hindered by the veil that separated the Shadow Realm and Earth.

The room was quiet, save for the fire's crackling and Crookshanks' purring. It had been quiet for the past five minutes. The rest of the Gryffindors were down at dinner, but no one present in the common room felt sorry for missing the Halloween feast. This, they decided, was much more important. They could always have Dobby sneak them some food if they got hungry, but at the moment all appetites had been depleted with the startling revelation.

Finally, Bakura spoke in his harsh, snappy tone. "So are we just going to sit here, or what? Though, I shouldn't complain; I'm quite comfy. Did you know that, Yadonushi? You're as comfortable as any chair. Even more so." He smirked and Ryou flushed angrily, though the boy said nothing.

"Well," Yuugi said, "where do we begin?"

"How about," Harry offered, "telling us who the hell these two are."

"Oh, well," Yuugi looked up at his yami, "this is Yami."

"Pharaoh Atemu, to be more exact," Atemu added. "Thousands of years ago, I was the king of Egypt. I created the Millennium Items, and locked away the ancient secrets of Shadow Magick so that no one could ever again use it for evil."

"'Shadow Magick'?" Harry echoed.

"Yes. Shadow Magick is … well … control over the Shadow Realm and its inhabitants, namely the Duel Monsters. And the powers of the Millennium Items, those are also forms of Shadow Magick," the Pharaoh elaborated.

"What's the Shadow Realm?" Ron wondered.

"The Shadow Realm is a plane that coexists with this one," Atemu answered.

Instinctively, Harry turned to Hermione. "What's he talking about?"

"I think what he means is … how can I explain this … well, picture our world … picture Earth." Hermione held up her fist for demonstration. "Now, picture another world," she covered her fist with her other hand, "over ours. That is the Shadow Realm. The Shadow Realm, I suppose, is another term for the Faerie Realm or the Spirit World or the Astral Plane. I've read a few books on it, books that explain about astral projection and communication with the spirits. You see, this other realm – the Shadow Realm, the Faerie Realm, the Spirit World, the Astral Plane, whatever you want to call it – coexists with ours, but is separated by a veil, which keeps our world and the other from clashing."

"Exactly," Atemu said. "You see, Bakura and I exist in the Shadow Realm when we're not inside our Items or possessing our hosts, and only our hosts and other spirits can see us through the veil. Spirits exist everywhere, and not just spirits like us, but elemental spirits of sorts, like the salamanders, which control the element of Fire, the undines, for Water, the sylphs, for Air, and the gnomes, for Earth. There are also four guardians that protect the veil, each one standing guard at a cardinal point. Each culture, like with all mythology, has its own version of who the guardians are."

"In the books that I read, they're known as the four archangels, Gabriel, Rafael, Michael, and Uriel," Hermione said. "Gabriel is the archangel of Water and guards the West point, Rafael of Fire, guards the South, Michael of Earth, guards the North, and Uriel of Air, guards the East. Were these guardians nonexistent, then entities of all sorts could slip through the veil both ways, and that would be a disaster of catastrophic proportions, possibly causing the end of the universe. The veil keeps order between the worlds, and the guardians protect the veil. Everything is all about balance and harmony, whether its between Good and Evil, Heaven and Hell, Light and Dark, or Earth and the Shadow Realm. Without balance there would be … nothing."

"You are quite insightful, Hermione," Atemu noted.

She blushed. "Oh … well … I … you know –"

"I think I understand," Harry said. Ron nodded vaguely, his head still spinning with all the information. "So, you explained about the Millennium Items a while back, I remember that, and you talked about Duel Monsters, and now you told us about the Shadow Realm and Shadow Magick. But, who's he?" Harry asked, pointing towards Bakura.

"I'm the almighty Ruler of the Universe."

Ron's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Yeah, now bow down." Bakura pointed at the floor, looking pointedly at the redhead.

"No, he's Bakura," Atemu said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"That's _Thief King_ Bakura," the white-haired spirit snapped indignantly.

"'Thief King'?" Hermione repeated incredulously.

"Yes. Tell them, Atemu, tell them how you could _never _catch me, no matter how hard you and your pathetic guards tried. I evaded you for years. I was the Thief King, accomplished tomb robber, master of the –"

"Okay, Bakura," Atemu interrupted. "I think they get the point."

"So you were a tomb robber, eh?" Ron asked.

Bakura grunted. "The best of the best, don't forget."

"And you live in the Millennium Ring, like the Pharaoh lives in the Puzzle?" Harry said.

"I suppose you could say that," Bakura answered.

"And you're Ryou's … what was it? His yami? Yeah, you're Ryou's yami, like Atemu is Yuugi's?" Harry asked.

The thief nodded.

"Well," Hermione murmured, "this explains a lot. What I don't understand, though, is why we can suddenly see you, while you've been here all along."

"No one could see us earlier today, either," Bakura pointed out.

"No, I think they could," Atemu contradicted, "just not clearly, or not consistently. I think we'd flicker through the veil, or our images would be hazy."

"The veil …" Hermione mumbled.

"But what about in classes? No one saw us then."

"We didn't really attend the classes today. We were either in the hallways or in the courtyard, remember?" Atemu reminded. "The only classes we were at today were History of Magick and Potions."

Hermione was still muttering to herself. "The veil … ah!" She jumped up excitedly, Crookshanks leaping off her lap with an irritated yowl. "What's today?"

"October thirty-first," Yuugi replied. "Why?"

"It's Halloween!" Hermione gasped.

"You just realized that?" Harry cocked an eyebrow.

"No, no, I knew that, it's just … Halloween … All Hollow's Eve … Samhain …" She began pacing, tapping her chin thoughtfully as her mind began to reel.

"_Sow_-what?" Ron asked.

Hermione looked up. "Hmm? Oh! Samhain."

"_Soween_?" Harry repeated, pronouncing the word as Hermione had.

She nodded. "Yes. On the traditional witch's calendar, Samhain – October thirty-first – is one of the four major Sabbats. The Sabbats are also called the Quarter and Cross-Quarter Days, and they follow the path of the sun through the year. There are eight Sabbats in a year. The Quarter Days are the Winter and Summer Solstices and the Spring and Autumn Equinoxes. The Cross-Quarter Days fall halfway between Each Solstice or Equinox. For example, Samhain is a Cross-Quarter Day that falls halfway between the Autumn Equinox and the Winter Solstice. Each Sabbat is celebrated by the traditional witches in different ways, and each Sabbat is significant to certain types of magick or rituals. Samhain is a particularly _powerful _day, good for all types of magick, particularly astral travel, ancestral and faerie communication, shapeshifting, and honoring the dead, and this is all because on Samhain," Hermione's eyes glinted as she looked from Atemu to Bakura, "the veil between the Spirit World and the physical plane is at its weakest."

---

* * *

---

So? Did everyone understand? I hope so! Oh, and FYI, I DID NOT make any of that stuff up about the Faerie Realm or the guardians or Samhain. You can find books or websites anywhere on all that stuff; it's really interesting to read about. Oh, and the part at breakfast, the sentence that said:

"The Ravenclaw couch was _much _comfier than the one in Gryffindor tower."

Anyone who picked up on the innuendo, Malik and Ryou didn't do anything _extreme_, if anyone was thinking that. Just making-out, if you must know, on the couch in the Ravenclaw common room (while there wasn't anyone around, of course). Well, this is **TBC**, and I promise that I'll get some more HarryxDraco-ness in the following chapters. For those of you that wanted Atemu and Bakura to play matchmaker, I'm working on it! Oh, and I want to thank all of those non-yaoi fans who've stuck with my story despite the yaoi-ness. I hope you like it! I hope even more that you'll come to like yaoi! Yae for YAOI! XD Hehe, okay I'm done.

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	8. Gryffindor vs Slytherin

**Of Wizards and Duelists …**

_XO'MagickMoon'OX_

**A/N: **More of J. K.'s dialogue during the scene with the Quidditch match from the OotP. **Is not my dialogue … all belongs to J. K. Rowling! **Okay, now that that's out of the way … thanks again to all of my reviewers! Enjoy!

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* * *

---

Everyone was silent as understanding began to settle into their minds. Hermione gave off a self-satisfied air, though no one was surprised that she had figured out all of the answers first. Her theory certainly made utter sense. The reason Atemu and Bakura could be seen was because the veil separating the Shadow Realm and the physical plane was thin, and fazing through it was so easy that it could be done unintentionally, as had been Atemu and Bakura's case.

But Hermione wasn't done. "Not only that," she continued, after allowing a moment for everything to sink in, "but tonight is a full moon. Now, according to lunar magick, the full moon is the most powerful out of the lunar cycle. That's why, earlier today, your images were hazy or kept fazing back and forth between the realms. But, as the moon began to rise, you completely shifted over to this realm, and we were able to see and hear you totally, as we can now."

Bakura shook his head and growled, "You're too damn smart. How is it possible for a mere human to have a reserve of knowledge such as you do?"

The question, of course, was rhetorical, so silence followed Bakura's inquiry.

Then, Harry mused, "So, you two really have been here all along? Sitting in the back of classes, floating around the halls?" Atemu and Bakura nodded.

"And, now that you know about us," Atemu said, "you should also know that … yesterday … that was me who attacked Draco, not Yuugi. I was … angry, and I lost control. I opened a portal to the Shadow Realm, and had Yuugi not stopped me, I might have very well tossed Draco in it."

"Well, this certainly clears up a lot of confusion," Harry said. "And this is what you've been hiding the whole time?"

"Well," Hermione chimed in softly, "there was _one _other question you've still left unanswered. The one about Malik, and what 'terrible things' he'd done."

All eyes turned to the blonde Egyptian standing silently by the hearth, half of his body lit by the firelight and the other half by the white moonlight shining through a nearby window. Without looking up, he stepped away from the wall, only to turn on his heel and face the fire, arms still crossed over his chest. He stared into the hypnotic flames, as if he could lose himself in the fire, lose himself and escape from the question, escape from the memories he had tried so hard to forget, but kept resurfacing, crawling on the edges of his mind.

Then the slight sounds of struggling broke out behind him and ended with an indignant growl that was no doubt from Bakura. Still Malik didn't turn around, but moments later he felt someone wrap their arms around his waist and rest their head on his shoulder. Malik sighed and melted into the embrace that could be none other than Ryou's. No words were needed as Ryou's arms moved from the blonde's waist to take his hand and lead him away from the hearth; his actions seemed to say it all: "Don't worry. I'm here; I'll protect you from the memories, from the pain…"

Ryou took Malik over to the one now-empty chair and sat the blonde down in it before climbing onto his lap and sitting in a way that was similar to the way that Bakura had been sitting on Ryou, only less rudely and more lovingly, nestling his head in the crook of Malik's neck. Malik smiled contently and wrapped his arms around the white-haired boy. Bakura was still sitting, astonished, on the floor where Ryou had forcibly dumped him, but now he sprang to his feet, causing Ryou to wince. Bakura opened his mouth to say … or rather, shout … something when Atemu rushed to his side and pulled him away. Atemu sat back down on Yuugi's armrest and latched onto Bakura's arm so that he couldn't get at Ryou or Malik. But that didn't stop the tomb robber from mumbling every curse he could think of and wishing the wrath of every god that came to mind upon Malik and Ryou. Hermione, Ron, and Harry just sort of gaped at the two boys sharing the chair for a moment before the initial shock wore off. Yuugi and Atemu weren't surprised in the least at Ryou and Malik's affectionate behavior, and Bakura was just fuming, however held captive by the Pharaoh.

"Well, I suppose it's necessary that I explain a little about my childhood before I go into detail about my … past misdeeds," Malik began softly.

Everyone was waiting with bated breath as the blonde gathered his thoughts. Even Yuugi and Ryou were anxious, as they had never really heard the story of Malik's childhood. The only parts they knew were the ones that they had heard from Isis and the ones that they been present for, which left many questions unanswered.

Malik said, "I come from a family of tomb keepers. In Egypt, we keep watch over the nameless pharaoh's tomb, waiting for the day when he would return. That pharaoh was, of course, Atemu. Being a tomb keeper means living a life of solitude and darkness, stuck underground studying the ancient writings and scrolls and devoting yourself to the pharaoh. For a child, it was a torturous lifestyle. … Even more torturous was the rite that I had to go through, all for the sake of the Pharaoh. The rite …" Malik's breath caught in his throat as pain seared up his back at the memory. "The rite was the inscribing of the 'pharaoh's secret' on my back. Carving the hieroglyphics and pictures into my flesh …" He winced involuntarily.

"'Carving'?" Hermione asked, her face paling a bit. "You mean they …"

Malik nodded. "My father carved the complete tattoo into my back, the pictures of the three Egyptian God cards and the ancient text explaining the 'pharaoh's secret'. It was … so painful. I can't even begin to explain how excruciating it was. And I was only a child! I felt the resentment and hatred for my destiny, for the Pharaoh, begin to build then, my destiny of being a tomb keeper, my destiny of guarding the Pharaoh's tomb. I didn't want that destiny; I wanted to choose my own path. I wanted it more than anything.

"I remember one day I asked my older sister, Isis, to take me into the city above ground. Rather, _sneak _me there, as Father would never allow such a thing. Seeing the pleading on my face, she agreed, and, asking our friend, Rishid, to cover for us, we snuck up to the city above our chambers below ground. Can you imagine that the sunlight was nearly blinding? I had been underground for practically every minute of my young life, and was unaccustomed to such light. But I soon adjusted and was amazed at the sights and sounds and smells of the world above. The TV fascinated me, and the second I lay eyes on a picture of a motorcycle, I wanted one. It was amazing. Isis was uncomfortable with staying out too long, though, and we soon returned to our home. The sight we were met with was … frightening, to say the least …"

Malik trailed off, his eyes misting with reminiscence. The fire popped in the background in a display of sparks, as if annoyed by the blonde's sudden silence. Ryou looked up at him, his warm brown eyes tinted with worry. "Malik?" he whispered.

The blonde gave a startled jump and looked around at his audience. He blinked, his eyes coming back into focus, before continuing. "My father was trying to kill Rishid," he said bluntly. "Originally, Rishid was supposed to be adopted by my parents to become the heir to the Ishtar family, but then I was born … the rightful heir. Rishid became my closest friend, loyal and caring, just like an older brother. He would've given his life for me if he had to. He even tattooed himself so that I wouldn't have to go through the ritual marking alone. Seeing Father trying to kill him, all because he allowed Isis and me to sneak out … I remember my vision turning red, and my head throbbing, ears ringing … before I blacked out. The next thing I knew, I was staring down at my father's lifeless body sitting against the wall, blood … his blood … smeared down the yellow brick and pooling around him. I started to cry, wondering who killed my father and vowing revenge. Rishid and Isis were behind me, too horrified to speak, when Shadi appeared, claiming that my father's death was the will of the Pharaoh –"

"Hold on," Ron cut in. "Who's Shadi?"

Malik looked up, startled by the interruption. "Oh … Shadi is the guardian of the Millennium Items, and he possesses the Millennium Key and the Millennium Scale. He crosses our paths every now and then … and he's loyal to the Pharaoh, like the rest of us.

"Well," Malik continued, "from that day on after Shadi told us that my father's death was the Pharaoh's will, I vowed revenge on the Pharaoh. I vowed to find him … and kill him. I blamed the Pharaoh for everything. I blamed him for my damned destiny, I blamed him for taking away the life I wanted, my liberty to choose my own path. I blamed him for all my pain, and now I blamed him for the death of my father, even when my father's murder wasn't really his fault …" Again Malik trailed off. He was quiet for a moment.

"Who's fault was it?" Harry prodded.

Malik met Harry's gaze squarely. "Mine."

An awkward silence filled the room. Malik closed his eyes and sank further into the cushiony chair, as if it could swallow him up and erase his memories.

"Malik."

Malik felt a soft hand caress his face, and he looked down to see Ryou watching him. He hugged the boy tighter and suddenly felt the will to continue his story resurface. He said, "I killed my father. You see, like Ryou and Yuugi, I had a yami, a dark alter-ego, except mine was no ancient spirit. It was an entity entirely derived from the darkness in my heart, my pain, my hatred, my contempt, my anger, my fear … Upon seeing my dearest friend so close to death at the hand of my father, my yami took control … and killed my father. He would've killed Rishid, too, if I had not been able to take control again. I blacked out while he was controlling my body, and awoke with no memory of the terrible deed my yami had committed, or the one he was about to commit. I wasn't even aware that I had a yami until years later. Isis saw him that day, she saw my yami, and she realized that Rishid was the only one who could suppress the darkness within me. With Rishid around, I could keep my yami in control.

"I took the Millennium Rod and, with Rishid at my side, set out to take my revenge on the Pharaoh. I needed to acquire the three Egyptian God cards in order to do so. Isis took the Millennium Necklace and through it watched what the future for me would bring. She went to Seto Kaiba – a very wealthy, powerful, and intelligent guy … who goes to school with Yuugi and Ryou – and suggested that he start a dueling tournament. She gave him the God card, Obelisk the Tormentor. The reason she asked him to start the tournament was because she knew that, in the end, it would draw the three God cards together, along with myself and the Pharaoh, and she knew that the Pharaoh was the only one who could stop me and exorcise the darkness within me, returning me to the good person I really was. By the time we got to the finals, I had the Winged Dragon of Ra, and Yuugi had Slifer the Sky Dragon, and Kaiba still possessed Obelisk. In the duels that followed, many innocent people were put in danger because of me … a woman, Mai Kujaku, Yuugi's best friend, Katsuya Jounouchi, Rishid, Ryou, Yuugi, and even myself. You see, under my command, Rishid pretended to be me and dueled using the Winged Dragon of Ra. He lost control of it and entered into a coma, and with Rishid out of the way, my yami took total control of my body. I thought that all was lost; my yami was going to win … all of the people unconscious were going to die, my soul would be banished to the Shadow Realm, and my yami was going to use his Shadow Magick to take over the world, once the Pharaoh was out of the way for good. I went to Rishid in his unconscious state, as a spirit, and begged forgiveness for everything I'd done, all the pain I'd caused him, and seeing my capitulation, he was pulled from his coma and arrived on the scene where our yamis were engaged in a Shadow Game, and Yuugi and I were nearly lost to the Shadow Realm. With Rishid there, I was able to overcome my yami and turn the tables, banishing my yami to the Shadow Realm after withdrawing from the duel I was in with the Pharaoh, ending all of the chaos."

"… So you're really the hero, Malik," Hermione said.

Malik shook his head. "No, I wasn't. Everything I've told you … it doesn't even begin to cover everything I'd done. I turned men into puppets, I pitted best friends against each other, I nearly killed a half a dozen innocent people, including my closest friend. I was a monster."

There came an exasperated sigh from Yuugi's chair. "No!" the small boy declared. "It wasn't your fault! Your yami poisoned your mind."

"And who created my yami, Yuugi? Who created that monster?" Malik cried. "Me! It was all my fault and nothing I can ever do will repent for the wrongs I did."

At that moment, Fred, George, Lee, Ginny, and Neville burst into the common room, ending the conversation and indefinitely destroying any chance for Yuugi to argue. The group just remained seated, each staring off into some sort of oblivion, left to their own thoughts. After Malik's longwinded explanation, everyone was left with a lot on their minds.

---

The group stayed in the common room until late that night, finishing their homework, long after everyone else had gone to bed. Their friends had wondered where Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ryou, Yuugi, and Malik had been, why they'd missed the feast, and the group had dismissed the inquiries with simple excuses. No one bothered to press the matter.

Hermione sat on a chair by the hearth knitting her elf clothes while Harry and Ron worked on their homework. Hermione, Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik had finished a half-hour ago. Yuugi was sitting in one of the cushiony chairs in the middle of the common room, talking with Atemu, and Bakura sat sulking in the corner somewhere while Malik and Ryou were positioned on the couch. Despite the fact that it was late and Malik should have been back in his dorm, the blonde was determined to stay with Ryou for a little while longer and then sneak back to the Ravenclaw tower. Though Hermione was strongly against this and knew that she and Ron should have forced him to leave, being prefects and all, nothing she could say would separate him from the white-haired boy. All was quiet and still save for the scratching of quills on parchment, the hissing of the dying fire, and Yuugi and Atemu's murmured conversation. It was almost eleven o'clock, and in about another hour, the veil would strengthen again, closing Atemu and Bakura off from everyone but their hosts.

Then, Hermione spoke. "So, are you two …?" She pointed between Malik and Ryou snuggling on the couch. In response, Malik leaned down and captured the other boy's lips with his own, initiating a chaste kiss. Hermione grinned and nodded before returning to her knitting. "I see."

Ron frowned. "Eh …" he groaned.

"Oh don't tell me you're a homophobe, Ron," Hermione said. She turned to Harry, who was also looking a bit disturbed.

"Just going to take time getting used to is all," Harry dismissed, quickly returning to his work. Ron nodded in fervent agreement.

Everyone politely ignored the couple on the couch as a flame of passion ignited between them, Malik pushing Ryou onto his back and laying on top of him, slipping his tongue inside the white-haired boy's mouth. Their breathing became blunt and desperate, Ryou raking his fingers through Malik's pale, silky hair, Malik sliding his hand under Ryou's shirt to caress the soft stomach beneath. A pleasured moan crawled up the back of Ryou's throat, but was muffled by Malik's mouth.

Suddenly, Atemu's clear voice broke through their spell of fevered passion, and startled everyone else from their thoughts. "Where's Bakura?"

Malik sat up, allowing the boy beneath him to do the same. Ryou ran a hand through his mussed hair as he scanned the common room worriedly. Ron and Harry looked up, as did Hermione and Yuugi, but the thief was nowhere to be found. Ryou fumbled with the Ring underneath his robes, but sensed no presence within it, and couldn't reach his yami through their mind-link, as Bakura had closed it.

Ryou shook his head and shrugged, though an inexplicable sense of dread and guilt had besieged his heart. The sensations were chased away, however, as Malik slipped an arm around the brown-eyed boy's waist and pulled him close.

Atemu sighed and stood from where he and Yuugi had been sitting. "I'll go find him."

"I'll come with you," Yuugi offered, standing as well.

"No," Atemu said. "It's too late for students to be out, and I need to talk to Bakura alone."

With that, Atemu slipped out of the common room, leaving a very disconcerted Yuugi behind.

---

"Bakura?" Atemu called as he started down a corridor. He had been searching for nearly thirty minutes and hadn't even a clue as to where the thief was. He had searched all of their haunts, the courtyard, the archway, the Great Hall, and all the hallways in between. Where would the heartbroken thief retreat to? Where would he go to find peace?

As Atemu turned a corner, a thought struck him. The Potions room.

The Pharaoh hurried down into the dank dungeons of the school, following the starkly lit hallways until he arrived at the Gryffindors' least favorite classroom, fazing through the heavy iron doors. Sure enough, there sat Bakura, behind Snape's desk, fiddling with an empty vile and seemingly lost in thought. Atemu stood at the door, waiting for Bakura to acknowledge him, but when the thief just sat there, staring blankly at the glass vile in his phantom hands, Atemu took a step towards him, then another, and another until he was standing before the desk.

"Bakura?" he murmured.

"I can't stand this." Bakura didn't turn away from the vile, didn't focus his introspective gaze.

"What?"

"This … _unrequited love _thing. Why does it hurt so much?" Bakura looked to Atemu then, his eyes pleading with the Pharaoh to answer all his questions, to explain everything that he didn't understand.

But Atemu couldn't, because he didn't have all the answers, he himself didn't understand. "I don't know," he answered softly.

"Damn you." Bakura turned angrily back to the vile, as if it trying to shatter it with his glare.

"Bakura …"

The glass broke, the melodic grating followed by the soft clattering of shards falling to the desk, like rain on a windowpane. The fist that had been holding the vile clenched and unclenched, as if Bakura expected his hand to hurt, expected it to bleed. But neither were possible, not for a spirit. If it weren't for his ability to compact his particles to the point of near-solidity, he wouldn't have even been able to shatter the vile. Hoping for his hand to bleed was expecting too much.

"Things were so much simpler … in Egypt," he murmured. "Pain was pain, blood was blood, life and death were inevitable, and falling in love could be avoided."

"It could?" This was news to the Pharaoh.

"For me it could. I associated with people like myself, people who were cruel and sardonic, people with painful pasts and hardened hearts, and anyone I came even remotely close to I immediately distanced myself from. Feelings were shoved aside, and the adrenaline and adventure that came with the life of a thief took their place, and physical pain was always substituted for emotional pain. Blood … the smell of it, the taste of it, the sight of it was enough to erase all emotion from my mind and give complete control to animal instinct, and love could easily be avoided when my own humanity was ignored. Peace was found in the night, under the light of the moon and guardianship of the stars … I didn't need people to make me happy, I didn't need love. But then …" Bakura's eyes misted with memory. "Then I became trapped in the Ring, and when Ryou got a hold of it, every truth that I had lived by, every philosophy ground into my mind, everything I knew and was accustomed to … was gone. I tried to keep it up, tried to rekindle my old way of life, but it just wasn't the same … not with Ryou around. And now, thanks to you, I know exactly why nothing could ever be the same: I'd fallen in love, and there wasn't anything I could do to stop it. I'd been bitten by the adder, and now all I can do is wait for its venom to kill me."

"Love … is poison?"

"Yes, love is poison."

" … "

They sat there in silence for a little while longer before, finally, they returned to the dorms.

As soon as the spirits had left the dungeon, two figures emerged from a room in the back, one clad in his usual black, ebony eyes gleaming in the dim light, the other dressed in sweeping azure robes, his long wiry beard tied in a bow.

The blue-clad wizard spoke in his whispering voice. "So, do you think you can help them, Severus?"

The other man stepped brusquely up to his desk and observed the shattered vile. "I think so."

---

The next day the Gryffindors and Slytherins filed out onto the grounds for Care of Magickal Creatures class. The wind was so icy that one could've sworn it was the middle of December and not the first of November. Students had their scarves pulled up over their mouths and their caps down to their brows so that only their eyes and cherry-tipped noses were visible. They even pocketed their gloved hands in search of extra warmth or rubbed them together fervently. Beneath their school robes they wore many layers of turtleneck shirts and sweaters.

"This is absolutely insane," Hermione mumbled, her voice muffled by her scarf. "It's too bloody cold to be having class outside."

"I doubt they'll start having classes inside, though," Harry said, "until December, or when it starts snowing, whichever comes first."

"Why's that?" Ryou wondered.

"Oh, they just don't want all of the creatures loose inside, and I doubt the professor is too keen to pull the beasts any further out of their natural habitats, either," Hermione answered. "So they keep having classes outside for as long as possible. The only time we've had class inside this year was after that terrible storm a few weeks back."

Hermione then looked to Ron and Harry with some sort of inquiry in her eyes, as if a silent conversation were going on between them. Yuugi opened his mouth to ask what was going on when he was interrupted.

"Well if it isn't Scarhead and You-Know-Who Junior," a familiar drawl sounded from behind them, its tone startlingly clear.

The group turned to see Draco and his gang, Draco with his scarf pulled up to his chin. That was why his voice had been so clear, because he didn't have his mouth covered like the rest of the class. Actually, he was dressed a bit coolly in comparison to everyone else; practically his entire face was exposed, his scarf only wrapped around his neck and his head covered by a black wool cap. His hands were gloveless, albeit buried deep in his pockets, his bare wrists the only evidence of his lack of gloves. Pale skin paler than usual, save for the wind-bitten, rosy cheeks and nose, he didn't look all that cold.

Ron pulled his scarf down to his chin to speak. "Aren't you freezing, Malfoy?" the redhead wondered mockingly. "Although, I doubt that; perfect setting for a coldhearted git like you. Bet you're used to the cold, aren't you? I'll bet you don't receive any warmth even within your own family, the lot of bloody Death Eaters that they are. How much love could there be to go around amongst murderers?"

Draco simply smirked, although the blow to his family had stung a bit. He retorted, "Who needs love when you've got money? Not that you'd know anything about money, Weasel."

"Love is more valuable than any sum of money, Malfoy," Hermione snapped angrily, pulling her scarf down to be heard clearly.

"Oh I'll bet," Draco drawled. "I'm sure you and your Muggle family have plenty of love to go around, enough to compensate for the lack of magickal ability, right? Filthy mudblood."

Hermione scowled, pulling her scarf back up over her mouth.

"Just ignore him," Harry said, coming up from behind his friends. "He's not worth the breath it takes to insult him."

"Oh that hurt, Potter," Draco sneered. Unbeknownst to everyone around, Draco wasn't kidding.

Unbeknownst, that is, to everyone except two highly sensitive spirits standing just beyond the ring of students. They traded knowing sidelong glances and continued watching the scene that seemed to slowly be drawing to a close. Professor Grubbly-Plank walked up behind her table set up at the front of the group and called the class to order.

As the students began working, Hermione, Ron, and Harry managed to get Ryou and Yuugi away from the rest of the class, and, under the guise of hardworking children, they began to quietly talk to the two about something they'd, thus far, kept secret.

"'Dumbledore's Army'?" Ryou asked after Hermione had finished explaining about the secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group the trio had been holding weekly.

"Yes, yes, please keep it down," Hermione pleaded, quickly scanning the rest of the class to see if anyone had heard. Luckily, no one seemed to have.

"Why weren't we told about it before?" Yuugi wondered.

"Honestly?" Ron said. "We didn't know if we could trust you. You didn't seem to be able trust us with your secrets, and until last night, we felt we couldn't trust you with ours."

Yuugi nodded understandingly.

"It's very important," Hermione whispered, "that you tell nobody and keep it a total secret. Don't let it slip, don't let anyone follow you to the meetings, and don't act suspicious. If we're caught, everyone in the group will be expelled permanently from Hogwarts," she looked horrified at the thought, "and we'll all lose our only chance at ever preparing ourselves for the return of V-Voldemort." Ron shuddered at the name, and Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"You two have to fill Malik in as well," Harry said. He then handed them each a coin and explained how it was enchanted to inform people of the date of the next meeting. The boys pocketed their coins.

"When you come to the meeting, you also have to sign a sheet of paper that we all put our names on. It's posted in our room where we meet," Hermione said.

"Where's that?" Yuugi wanted to know.

"It's called the Room of Requirement," Harry said, and briefly told them about the properties of the mysterious room. "It's brilliant," he concluded. "On your first meeting, you'll come with us, just to make sure you all don't get lost. After that, you should be able to find your ways to the room without a problem."

Ryou and Yuugi nodded.

"Great." Hermione beamed. "Then it's settled."

---

In the following weeks, Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik attended the D.A. meetings with the others. As they had signed their names on the list at their first meeting, a warm sense of accomplishment had overcome them. They were standing up to Umbridge and the Ministry; they were taking things into their own hands and learning to defend themselves from the dangers the Ministry assured everyone were nothing more than myth. It was an empowering sensation, one that the trio welcomed whole-heartedly. Even the risk of being caught and expelled paled in comparison to the enormity of their satisfaction. They were also content with having Harry as a teacher, for, from what they'd been told, he had more experience in Defense Against the Dark Arts than anyone amongst them, and they felt that their proper education was fit to bloom in his hands.

Harry though, while happy that Ryou, Yuugi, and Malik had decided to join them and that they seemed to be picking up his teachings quickly, was annoyed at the others' reactions to Malik's arrival. It was namely his female students that were getting on his nerves; they were always gawking and giggling and blushing and trying to flirt with the Egyptian blonde, and, quite frankly, it was irritating and distracting. Harry would have liked to have said that it annoyed him because the girls were shying away from their defensive studies and that they could end up in trouble because they hadn't been paying attention. He would have liked to have said that it annoyed him solely because of his concern for his peers' well-beings. But, upon facing the truth of the matter, Harry found that it really annoyed him so greatly because Cho was one of the gawking, giggling, blushing, flirting girls. And it wasn't him that she was gawking at, giggling and blushing because of, or flirting with, but Malik. And _that_ was what really annoyed him about the whole matter.

But Harry hadn't time to worry too much about it, as the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match was coming up soon, and he spent almost every free thought that he had on the game. The D.A. meetings were put on hold the few weeks before the game, as Angelina had the Gryffindors practicing night and day. One wouldn't be surprised if the frenzied team captain ran plays in her sleep. Ron was starting to worry Harry, though. Harry's redheaded friend was jumpy and spastic, every nerve on edge, always worrying and always frantically practicing, although the practice did him no good; he was too nervous about making a fool of himself and letting his team down to focus on his game. If he didn't calm down by the day of the match, the Gryffindor team was sure to be at a great disadvantage with an incompetent Keeper.

Finally, the day of the game dawned in a brilliant display of bright, gray skies and icy wind that bit at the face and violently tousled the hair of anyone who dared to oppose it. Harry awoke to find Ron already awake, staring blankly into the space in front of him. It didn't seem like he'd gotten much sleep.

Harry placed his glasses on his nose and asked, "You all right?"

Ron was eerily silent and, Harry noticed, deathly pale.

Harry suppressed his rising concern and muttered, "You just need some breakfast."

The two boys met Hermione, Ryou, and Yuugi down in the common room, and together they headed down to the Great Hall. Unnervingly, every Slytherin they passed had a silver badge pinned to their robes and kept giving Ron encouraging smiles … or smirks, rather, in which case, they really weren't encouraging at all. Ron slumped down into his seat at the Gryffindor table and silently began eating his breakfast.

"What's wrong with him?" Ryou whispered to Hermione.

"He's just nervous," Harry, who'd overheard, responded.

Ryou nodded and returned to his food, all the while looking thoroughly unconvinced.

"Well that's a good sign," Hermione said with a warm smile, "I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit nervous."

"Hello," a vague, dreamy greeting sounded behind them. Everyone looked up to see Luna Lovegood standing there with a … was it a hat? … perched atop her blonde head. Malik came up around her and rolled his eyes at her scary, to say the least, display of loyalty for the Gryffindor team, for that was obviously what it was, as the hat seemed to be a life-size lion's head. "I'm supporting Gryffindor," Luna said, though the statement was a bit unnecessary. "Look what it does …"

Luna carefully reached up with her wand and tapped the hat. It's jaw opened wide, revealing frighteningly large fangs, and an uncannily realistic roar was released. Everyone with in earshot jumped, and Malik had the misfortune of standing right beside the eccentric girl.

He immediately pressed his hands over his ears and shouted, "OH FOR THE LOVE OF RA, WILL YOU STOP DOING THAT?" His voice echoed behind the roar that was fading from the air, rising above all other din, and for a moment all eyes were on him. He felt heat rise in his cheeks as everyone quickly returned to their meals.

Luna was speaking again. "It's good, isn't it?" she chirped. "I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway … good luck, Ronald!"

She stepped around Malik, the lion head teetering precariously on her head, and returned to the Ravenclaw table. Malik shook his head and massaged his temples, as if he had a headache, which was very possible, considering he'd just had his eardrums blown out by Luna's hat. Then he sat down next to Ryou, who smiled affectionately at the blonde.

That was when Katie, Alicia, and Angelina appeared behind Harry and Ron.

"When you're ready," Angelina told them, "we're going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change."

"We'll be there in a bit. Ron's just got to have some breakfast," Harry replied.

Ron, however, did not seem able to eat anything other than the few bites he'd had. Therefore, Harry stood, pulling his unstable friend to his feet.

Before they left, Hermione took Harry aside and whispered, "Don't let Ron see what's on those Slytherins' badges."

Harry gave her a questioning look, but she just shook her head and turned to Ron, who was coming up behind them.

"Good luck, Ron," Hermione said before leaning up and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "And you, Harry –"

Color seemed to return to Ron's pale face as they went to exit the Great Hall. His fingers ghosted over the spot on his cheek where Hermione had kissed him, and a thoughtful smile graced his lips. Thankfully, he didn't notice much around them as they passed the Slytherin table, but Harry had a chance to glimpse the suspicious crown-shaped badges pinned to the breast of every Slytherin. Carved neatly into the platinum metal was the phrase "WEASLEY IS OUR KING". Harry's heart gave a start, and his stomach churned nervously. They crossed the entrance hall and stepped out into the bitter day, Ron still blissfully unaware of the fool he was being made of.

---

Madam Hooch trekked to the center of the field, positioning herself between the scarlet-clad and the emerald-clad players, wind tossing her robes about. "Captains shake hands," she instructed. Angelina and Montague – the Slytherin team captain – shook hands, Montague gripping Angelina's fingers painfully, but the Gryffindor captain stubbornly suppressed any sign of pain. "Mount your brooms …"

Madam Hooch then placed her whistle between her lips and blew, initiating the game as the balls flew from their confinements into the swirling gray sky.

Harry caught Draco's gaze for a fleeting second before his surroundings melted into each other as he shot through the air, trained senses automatically beginning the search for the Snitch. His usually keen mind was hindered, though, by his worry for his best friend. Numerous times he stole a glance at the goalposts to check on Ron, and this seriously cut into his Seeking duty, as every second counted when searching for the miniscule golden ball. He knew this, and Draco knew this, which was why Draco, for once, forced his mind off of the raven-haired boy to focus on the game. But as Harry was often in his line of vision, this became increasingly difficult.

"Damn him," Draco swore under his breath.

"Draco! Watch out!"

Draco turned just in time to see a Bludger coming straight at his head. He swerved to the left not a moment too soon, the large, heavy ball just missing his ear. He took a deep breath to steady his racing heart and turned to glare at the Gryffindor Beater that had shot at him: Fred … or George … he couldn't tell which, not that it mattered.

That was when he felt someone's gaze on him and turned to see Harry hovering some ways across the field from Draco, but nonetheless staring at him. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He couldn't see Harry's expression from his standpoint, but he was sure the git was smirking or laughing at him for almost getting hit by a Bludger.

Little did the blonde know, Harry would have loved to be smirking or laughing, anything taunting or mocking, but he found himself _relieved_, relieved that Draco hadn't been hit. _What the hell? What's wrong with me? _Harry wondered angrily. He was pulled out of his thoughts by the two silver orbs boring into his own. Even from across the distance of the field, he knew he'd been caught watching Draco by the Slytherin himself. He felt himself blush, why he wasn't sure, and knew that, to anyone, it wasn't evident because his wind-bitten complexion was red already. At that moment, though, all thoughts of Draco were swept from his mind by the little fleck of gold that flew behind the Slytherin Seeker. Thinking quickly, Harry shot upwards, to throw his opponent off. Sure enough, Draco believed Harry to have found the Snitch above them somewhere and took off after him. Then Harry made a hairpin turn and flew downwards, the Snitch in his sights. He zoomed by Draco, and heard the blonde curse under his breath as he realized that he'd been duped. Now Harry had a good two-second lead. Nevertheless, he followed the Gryffindor again, this time knowing for sure that Harry had his eyes on the Snitch.

The wind rushing by Harry's ears was not enough to drown out the din of the crowd or of Lee Jordan's commentary. Curiously, the cheering and booing of the audience had an almost melodic sound to it, and that was when he realized that some of the spectators were _singing_. What they were singing, he couldn't decipher, but he knew that there was a mocking air about the jingle. Then, Harry felt Draco catching up to him, and returned all of his focus on the Snitch, blocking out the sounds around him … or how his fingers seemed frozen to his broom. His sweat, too, was frozen to his face, glistening in crystalline streaks down his face. It was so damn _cold_.

The Snitch was so close he could practically hear the beating of its fervent, silver wings. He removed his fingers from his broom handle and reached for the Snitch …

"GRYFFINDOR SCORE!" Lee shouted excitedly. "It's forty-ten, forty-ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle .."

Harry's fingertips graced the golden surface of the Snitch …

"– Pucey throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Montague back to Pucey – Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good – I mean bad – Bell's hit by a Bludger from Goyle of Slytherin and it's Pucey in possession again …"

"_WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,_

_HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN,_

_WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN –"_

Harry almost had the Snitch … and froze. "WHAT?" he roared, instinctively rearing up. _That _was the jingle the crowd was singing? How dare they … "OW!" His heart jumped as Harry lurched forward, toppling over his broom. He quickly grasped the broom handle with his right hand, precariously hanging thirty feet above the ground. Draco had collided with Harry after the Gryffindor Seeker had stopped abruptly, and was now falling through the air, clutching his broom to his chest. Thinking quickly, he swung his leg over the shaft of his broom and took control again. The crowd gasped as he sharply pulled up five feet from the frozen turf of the Quidditch field.

He sat there for a brief moment, collecting his breath. Harry was back on his broom and circling the pitch. The Snitch was gone. Draco pushed back up through the air, continuing his search for the fleeting golden ball.

"_WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING,_

_HE CANNOT BLOCK A SINGLE RING,_

_THAT'S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING_

_WEASLEY IS OUR KING."_

Oh, the Slytherins would pay for this, Harry decided. Any confidence Ron had once possessed was now definitely shattered, no doubt about it. If Harry didn't find the Snitch ...

"_WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,_

_HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN,_

_WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN,_

_WEASLEY IS OUR KING."_

Harry stole another glance at Ron, who wasn't faring too well, it seemed. The score was still forty-ten, but it looked like it was soon to be fifty-ten, as the Quaffle was again nearing the Gryffindor goalposts in the hands of the Slytherin Chaser.

_Focus, Harry, focus on the Snitch_, Harry urged himself. Minutes passed, and he circled the pitch another few times, weaving through the other players, dodging the Bludgers, trying to keep his mind off of his frozen limbs, his exhaustion, Ron, and Draco –

_What? Why am I thinking about Malfoy? Bloody git … _Harry thought.

That was when Draco flew by him, and Harry heard him singing loudly, "_WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN …_"

It took all of Harry's self-control not to knock Draco off of his broom and pummel him into the ground. No doubt it was he who wrote the song –

A flash of gold swerved behind the Slytherin goalposts. Harry was on it in a second, zooming by the other players. The Snitch shot from the goalposts towards the center of the field. It flew right by Harry's ear, but his reflexes were too slow to catch it. However, he was quick enough that he flew after it, right on its tail as he had been before, his fingertips almost brushing the golden surface. Draco caught on quickly and flew towards Harry. They met in the center as the Snitch shifted gears and shot downwards, plummeting forty feet through the air as the two Seekers flew after it, their hands outstretched. Five feet from the ground, the Snitch swerved and soared horizontally over the field. Harry and Draco followed suit, neck-and-neck, naught but a half a foot of space between them.

_WHAM!_

A Bludger collided with the small of Harry's back and sent him flying forward off of his broom. The blow, though intended to throw him off course, actually gave him the extra lurch he needed to wrap his fist around the Snitch just as he crashed to the frozen turf. He winced in pain, winded and numb. Gasping for breath, he tightened his grip around the tiny golden ball struggling in his grasp. He barely heard Madam Hooch's whistle through the ringing in his ears and the calls and jeers and shouts from the stands.

Angelina hurried towards him, jumping off her broom. "Are you all right?" she cried.

"'Course I am," Harry growled, taking Angelina's offered hand and allowing her to help him to his feet. He was partially aware of Madam Hooch flying overhead towards a Slytherin player, no doubt the one who had shot the Bludger at him.

"It was that thug, Crabbe," Angelina said icily. "He whacked that Bludger at you the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch – but we won, Harry, we won!"

There came an indignant grunt from behind them, and Harry turned to see Draco standing there where he had landed. He looked furious, despite the haughty sneer plastered on his face.

"Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you?" he snapped at Harry. "I've never seen a worse Keeper … but then he was _born in a bin _… Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"

Harry ignored him, turning his back on the blonde to meet the rest of the team that had come up to congratulate him. Ron was absent, though, as he had dismounted over at the goalposts and was slowly walking back towards the changing rooms, wanting nothing more than to escape from his friends and the humiliation burning in his face. He kept replaying the game over and over in his mind, the missed shots, the boos and the cheers, the Slytherin rhyme … it had all been a disaster.

He wasn't the only one in a foul mood. Draco was fuming. Not only had he lost the game, but he'd lost it to Harry, who was blatantly ignoring him. Why was it that the boy always seemed to be a step ahead of him, always holding an advantage over him? He was much more liked by, not only the students, but the teachers as well, no doubt. He was obviously more skilled in Quidditch, though not by much, of course. Yet, the one thing that Harry had, the one thing that put him at the utmost advantage over the blonde, was Draco's heart. He hated Harry … yes, he hated him with a passion … all because …

He loved him.

He loved him, and he would never have his love returned. He loved him, and Harry didn't even realize it. He _loved _him, and he received nothing but sheer loathing in return. Draco was fuming. This wasn't over yet.

"We wanted to write another couple of verses!" Draco yelled at Harry's back as his Gryffindor teammates, Katie and Alicia, pulled him into a warm hug. "But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly – we wanted to sing about his mother, see –"

"Talk about sour grapes," Angelina said, staring disgustedly Draco.

"– we couldn't fit in _useless loser _either – for his father, you know –" the blonde continued. How _dare_ Harry ignore him? He was not getting away with this. He caused Draco enough pain without ignoring him. Draco knew the fastest way to get to Harry was by insulting his friends, and Draco was good at that.

Fred and George were in the middle of congratulating Harry when they caught on to whom Draco was insulting. They bristled angrily, turning twin glares at the blonde.

"Leave it," Angelina said promptly, gripping Fred's arm. "Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little –"

"– but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?" Draco jeered. "Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay –"

Harry latched on to George to keep him from charging at Draco, and Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were having to work together to hold Fred back. Draco was laughing wickedly, and Harry looked around frantically for Madam Hooch, who was preoccupied with chastising Crabbe. They couldn't hold the twins back for long.

Despite Draco's mocking laughter, the Weasley twins were beginning to worry him. He took a wary step back as he continued, "Or perhaps you can remember what _your _mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it –"

That was it. Harry was white with fury, and everything that followed the attack on his mother was a blur. He was vaguely aware of jumping at Draco, George at his side. Neither cared about the fact that the teachers and practically the entire school were watching them. Every bit of his focus was on Draco, and wanting to cause him as much pain as was humanly possible. This was exactly what Draco wanted, however, for Harry to be focused on him and only him, although this didn't make the impact of Harry's fist on his stomach any less painful. A million stars burst in Draco's vision, the cries of "Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! _NO_!" melting into the background with various other indecipherable shouts.

Draco was knocked onto his back by the blow. Harry and George were on him in an instant, George spouting every curse in his knowledge, Draco yelping with each hit, struggling to fight them off. Pain exploded all over his body, and amidst the ringing in his ears he could hear Madam Hooch's whistle blowing and everyone shouting in either encouragement or horror.

Finally, everything froze as Madam Hooch bellowed, "_IMPEDIMENTA_!" The weights of both Harry and George were removed from Draco as the boys were thrown backwards by the force of the spell. "What do you think you're doing?" Madam Hooch shouted as the two Gryffindors got to their feet.

Draco was still lying in a heap on the ground, his nose bleeding, one hand wrapped around his abused midriff, whimpering pathetically. George's lip was swollen, Fred was still struggling against his captors, Crabbe was laughing his head off somewhere in the background, Madam Hooch was hurriedly making her way towards the boys, and everything had gone eerily silent in the audience.

"I've never seen behavior like it – back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! _Now_!" Madam Hooch ordered, her pale eyes ablaze. Harry and George turned angrily on their heels and started towards the castle, George muttering under his breath all the way.

Draco forced himself off of the ground, wiping at his nose and misty eyes. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys didn't cry in the face of physical pain. They whimpered and whined like cowards, but they _never _shed a tear. Draco's world was spinning painfully, the starbursts just beginning to fade from his vision. He watched as Harry retreated into the school and shook his head exasperatedly. Only then was he aware of someone's eyes on him, and he looked around. His gaze met the warm, hazel eyes of none other than Hermione Granger. She had come down to the pitch to congratulate Harry and Ron when the brawl had broken out, and, little did he know it, she had been watching the blonde carefully the whole time.

Draco sneered at Hermione before hobbling off to the Slytherin changing rooms.

---

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Sooooo? Okay, question, does anyone mind that the chapters are getting kind of long? Do you want them shorter, or do you not mind that they're a bit lengthy? Well, anyway, any suggestions or compliments, please tell me! Oh, and I apologize if I got something wrong when writing out Malik's past. I missed a bunch of episodes from the Battle City season, and so I had to look his history up on the Internet, cross-referencing a few different sites and using what info I remembered. If there's anything I didn't get right, please tell me! Although it'll be too late to change anything, I still want to have all of my facts straight. All right ... this is still **TBC **... I'll try to update as soon as possible! Thanks for all of your support!

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	9. Worst Nightmare

**Of Wizards and Duelists …**

_XO'MagickMoon'OX_

**A/N: **More OotP dialogue. -**sigh**- Pretty soon, though, I'm going to stop referring to the OotP. -**does a little victory dance**- My fic shall be completely my own!

Okay, thanks again to everyone who's reviewed so far! And thanks to all those who don't particularly like yaoi that have stuck with this fic. -**huggles**- I think it's only fair that I warn you that this chapter is pretty much _centered _around the relationships between the characters, so, needless to say, it involves a LOT of slash. Hehe, sorry. But, anyway, those who wanted more HarryxDraco (and I don't blame you) there's some more in this chapter, and from here on there'll be _at least _some (hopefully) in almost every chapter.

Oh, and I wanted to talk to you peoples about the way I spell "**magick**". No, I do know how to spell, and there's a specific reason I spell it that way. If you look up the word "_magic_" in the dictionary, one of the definitions will be: "**The exercise of sleight of hand or conjuring for entertainment**," which is the thing you go see where people in flashy costumes stand on stage and trick everyone into believing that they're doing supernatural things, when in reality, it's all just an illusion. Now don't get me wrong, I love watching magic shows just as much as everyone else, but it's not _real _magick. If you look up "_magick_" in the dictionary, it'll have ONE definition, which is: "**An action or effort undertaken because of a personal need to effect change, especially as associated with Wicca or Wiccan beliefs**." Now, I know that Harry Potter doesn't really have anything to do with Wicca, but the magick they do in HP is supposed to be "real" magick, not illusions and tricks, and therefore I spell it "magick" instead of "magic". Ta-Da! Cower before my logic ...

Oh, and I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update! I honestly think that this is the longest I've gone without updating. I just have so much to put in this story, and so it takes a while to get all of my thoughts together. Okay, now on with the chapter! Enjoy!

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Draco peeled his green and silver Quidditch robes from his tired body, wincing with each movement. What had he been thinking, provoking the hot-headed Gryffindors? Ah, but it had been worth it, even though he'd been beaten nearly senseless, it had been worth it ...

_How pathetic_, Draco groaned inwardly, _that the only way to even get close to Potter is by goading him into beating me up. When did I sink so bloody low? _

Draco pulled off his padding and quickly headed over to the showers to rinse off, removing the rest of his clothing behind the curtain. The hot water felt good on his tender and frozen skin, and the smell of blood was washed away from above his upper lip. He took a little longer than was necessary to shower, not wanting to face his teammates any more than he had to. Failure to catch the Snitch _and _a Gryffindor beating? Any more humiliation and he'd rather lose himself in the Forbidden Forest than confront his friends.

Finally, once he was pretty certain the changing room was sure to be abandoned, he stepped out from the shower and dried off before heading back to where he'd laid his school clothes to change. Just as he'd thought, the rest of the team was long gone, leaving him completely alone in the changing room. As he was pulling on his pants, however, he felt someone grasp his shoulders.

"AH!" Draco nearly fell off the bench in surprise as a warm laughter sounded behind him. The blonde scowled. "Dammit, Blaise!"

Said boy walked around to stand in front of the other, laughing all the while. Blaise clutched his sides and fell to his knees on the tile floor, much to Draco's annoyance.

"Shut it, Zabini," Draco growled threateningly.

"Calm down, Malfoy," Blaise crooned tauntingly, rising to his feet. "It was all in good fun."

"What do you want?" Draco prompted as he finished putting on his pants and moved on to his shirt.

"Just to check on my friend, is there anything wrong with that?" Blaise inquired innocently, his blue eyes swimming in false concern.

The blonde rolled his eyes, buttoning up his white shirt and then grabbing his black sweater to put over it. Winter may have been his favorite season, but even he was no match for the relentless, icy wind outside and required a decent bit of coverage.

The two were silent for a moment before Blaise finally spoke. "So how did you survive it, being so close to Potter and all?"

Draco's head snapped up, and his hands froze over his boot laces, his metallic eyes flashing menacingly. "Come again?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Draco," Blaise said, blue orbs glinting. "Come on, you know I know how you feel about Potter. I saw you, flying all close to him and everything. No wonder you didn't catch the Snitch; that must have been hell."

Draco's eyes dropped back to his boots, but he didn't resume lacing them. A shadow seemed to have descended upon his features, his expression one of great pain. Blaise had known about his feelings for Harry for almost as long as Draco had, and Blaise had never told a soul, as he'd promised he would. Good friends since second year, there was nothing Draco felt he couldn't tell the slight, dark-haired boy.

"I mean really," Blaise continued, "this is the boy you'd give your right arm to fuck and you're flying right alongside him, so close you could probably feel the heat from his body. Would've distracted me, too."

Draco looked up again, aghast. "Blaise!" he cried. "Do you have to be so crass?"

"Well, it's true!" the dark-haired boy said with an impish grin, sitting down on the bench beside the other. "Just picture it Draco, Potter writhing beneath you, his body glistening with sweat, every nerve tingling with insurmountable pleasure, him screaming your name –"

"BLAISE!" Draco whined exasperatedly, his pants feeling uncomfortably tight. He hurried to pull on his robes, drawing them around him to cover himself up, but Blaise had already seen. His smile widened as he stifled a laugh. Draco glared at him. "If you weren't my friend, I'd curse you in a second."

Blaise just sat there, grinning wickedly at his flustered companion.

Draco finished dressing and tied his boots. Then he turned to Blaise and said, "You make it seem like I feel nothing but lust for Potter."

Blaise shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, well ..."

"Blaise, you more than anyone should know that it's more than that. I love him ..." Draco blushed and stared fixedly down at the tile floor.

Blaise's smile faded then, and he put a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Yeah, I know," he said softly. Then, he stood, and announced, "Well, we better get going."

Draco stood, too, and nodded, pulling on his scarf and hat, and shouldering his bag before following Blaise out of the changing room.

---

Later that night, Harry and Hermione sat alone in the Gryffindor common room, Harry still fuming from the ban Professor Umbridge had place on him, Fred, and George. Banned from ever playing Quidditch again? What sort of punishment was that, just for a fistfight? She was insane! No, she was _evil_, now Harry was sure of it.

Yuugi had gone to bed, just like everyone else, Ryou had gone to visit Malik at the Ravenclaw tower (and hadn't returned yet, despite the late hour), and Ron was still out somewhere, wallowing no doubt. Harry and Hermione were sitting beside the hearth, the roaring flames mirroring Harry's passionate hate for Umbridge. _I HATE her_, he thought heatedly. _I hate her just as much as I hate Snape … and Malf – _He paused. _… as much as I hate Ma –_

_I hate –_

_I ha –_

_I …_

Harry frowned, panic beginning to stir within his chest. Why did he find himself unable to finish that statement? He hated Malfoy, so what was the problem? He hated him …

Didn't he?

"Harry?"

Harry snapped out of his disconcerting thoughts to find Hermione watching him.

"Are you okay?"

It was then that he realized that his brow was furrowed into a puzzled frown, and his fists were clenched tightly upon the tabletop. He relaxed and murmured, "'S nothing."

Hermione regarded him skeptically. "There's something bothering you, besides Umbridge's punishment, isn't there?"

Harry thought for a moment. Pushing Malfoy and Umbridge from his mind, he remembered something that had been bothering him … bothering him greatly … before the match. With a start, he remembered Cho and Malik, and his heart began to sink. Hermione had known that there was something bothering him for a while now, ever since Malik, Ryou, and Yuugi had joined "Dumbledore's Army". He remembered her prodding him once about a week ago after their most recent meeting, and he had dismissed her concern. Now however, he felt the need to get his worries out in the open.

"It's about Malik," he began softly.

Hermione leaned forward, listening intently.

"I think Cho fancies him."

The bushy-haired girl caught herself before she burst out laughing, and only a smile betrayed her amusement. "That's what's been worrying you?" she asked, still grinning.

Harry's brows knit into an irritated frown at the sight of her reaction. How could she find anything funny in what he thought was a very disheartening matter? "Yes," he replied tersely. "What's so funny? You know I fancy her. How would you like it if you found out that Ron fancied someone else?"

Hermione's eyes widened, and her face paled. Up until now, she hadn't thought that her crush on the redhead had been obvious, and wondered fleetingly if it was as evident to Ron as it was to Harry.

As if catching her thought, Harry said, "He doesn't know."

Hermione visibly relaxed, sitting back and watching Harry with a curious twinkle in her eye, a glint the raven-haired boy was sure wasn't a reflection of the fire. "Maybe you should just tell Cho he's gay; I'm sure she'd lose interest pretty quickly."

Harry rolled his eyes. "That still won't make her like _me _any more than she does now. And I don't make a habit of going around and telling people about my friends' personal matters. I just … I really liked her, you know?"

"'Liked'?" Hermione echoed. "You mean you don't like her anymore?"

Harry froze, replaying what he'd just said in his mind. "Uh … no, I do still like it her … it's just … uh …" He turned to Hermione. "I _do_ still like her, don't I?"

His friend giggled. "Why on earth are you asking me?"

Harry shook his head. "Forget it. The point is … I just … I feel betrayed, like Malik _stole _her from me. She's the first girl I've ever really felt so much for."

"Well, you can't blame Malik for being attractive; all the girls fancy him –"

"I know."

"– and I think that maybe … Cho just wasn't _meant _for you. Maybe … Maybe there's already someone out there who … fancies you, or perhaps even loves you."

Harry looked inquiringly at Hermione. "Loves me? In this school? Who? You don't mean Ginny, do you, because she already has a –"

"No, no, not Ginny," Hermione said, waving her hand dismissively.

"Then who? Who else could there be that would be in love with me?"

Hermione shrugged unknowingly, but Harry wasn't fooled. This was Hermione, she knew everything.

"What are you hiding?" he demanded.

Before he could press her any further, Ron walked in.

Hermione turned her sights on him, jumping up. "Where have you been?" she cried worriedly.

"Walking," Ron replied. To his friends' great surprise, he was still wearing his Quidditch robes, which were damp from the snow that was swirling through the blackened sky outside.

"You look frozen," Hermione said. "Come and sit down!"

Ron did as he was told, choosing the chair by the hearth that was farthest from Harry.

He looked guiltily down at his boots. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" Harry wondered.

"For thinking I can play Quidditch. I'm going to resign first thing tomorrow."

"If you resign," Harry said as Umbridge resurfaced in his mind, "there'll only be three players left on the team." Ron passed him an inquisitive look, and Harry explained, "I've been given a lifetime ban. So've Fred and George."

Ron looked aghast. Hermione recounted everything that had happened after he'd left the Quidditch pitch. Harry just sat, sulking in his chair, staring into the flames as if it were all their fault. Once Hermione had finished, Ron looked horrified and more guilty than ever.

"This is all my fault –"

"You didn't _make _me punch Malfoy," Harry snapped.

"– if I wasn't so lousy at Quidditch –"

"– it's got nothing to do with that –"

"– it was that song that wound me up –"

"– it would've wound anyone up –"

Hermione stood and walked to stand beside the window, gazing out its frosty pane at the snowflakes falling from the inky sky, coating the ground in a white powder.

"Look, drop it, will you!" Harry nearly shouted. "It's bad enough without your blaming yourself for everything!"

Ron said nothing for a moment. He just gazed fixedly down at his robes, fingering the damp material. Then, he said, "This is the worst I've ever felt in my life."

"Join the club," Harry mumbled.

Hermione's wavering voice broke the tension in the room. "Well," she said, turning from the window. "I can think of one thing that might cheer you both up."

"Oh yeah?" Harry said skeptically, looking up at her.

"Yeah," said Hermione as her lips curved up into a smile. "Hagrid's back."

---

Ryou and Malik were situated on the cobalt blue sofa in the deserted Ravenclaw common room. It was dark, the only light emanating from the dying fire, the coals of which burned bright orange in the hearth. Malik lay behind the other boy, his arm wrapped around Ryou's waist, the white-haired teen snuggling into Malik's embrace. Ryou gazed down at the floor at their discarded robes that were splayed like shadows across the carpet alongside their uniform sweaters and ties. This left them comfortably in their white, button-front shirts and neat, cotton pants. The buttons on Ryou's shirt were undone down to his navel, and his hair was somewhat mussed, as was Malik's blonde mane. Anyone who was to walk in on the two might be able to speculate as to their recent activities. Luckily, everyone had retreated for some reason or another to their dorms for the night, leaving the couple in peaceful seclusion.

Malik twirled a lock of Ryou's snowy hair around his finger, breathing calmly the scent of the other boy, which was sweet and tranquil, like rain. "You smell nice," he murmured in Ryou's ear.

Ryou turned his head a little so that he was looking over his shoulder at the blonde. "I do?"

"Mmhm. I like it. I like everything about you." Malik pecked the white-haired boy affectionately on the cheek.

Ryou smiled. "… Thanks." He turned his head back so that he was looking again at their clothes on the carpet, the orange glare of the embers dancing across the floor. After a moment of silence, he said, "You know, no one's ever treated me like this before."

"Like what?" Malik asked.

"Like they care about me, like I matter."

"Of course you matter!"

"Not to Bakura, I don't."

Malik blinked. "Why do you care what Bakura thinks? He's never treated you nicely."

"I don't know," Ryou said softly. "I just … I don't know why he hates me so much."

"He hates everyone."

"But he hates _me _the most. He always hurts me, and I'm afraid that he'll hurt my friends. That's why I've never gotten close to anyone, why I keep to myself. I don't want him to hurt the people I care about."

"He hasn't hurt me yet," Malik pointed out.

"… That's only because Yuugi's yami is holding him back. I know he'd love to rip you apart if he got the chance," Ryou said darkly, his expression pained at the thought.

"I won't let him touch me," Malik said definitely. "And I won't let him hurt you."

"You can't stop him from hurting me. Although ..." Ryou thought for a moment. "… he really hasn't been hurting me … lately. He's not even in the Ring, most of the time. He's always out talking with the Pharaoh or floating around the school. And whenever he _is_ in the Ring, he closes himself off from the mind-link so I can't tell what's going on with him. It's as if he's hiding something." Ryou frowned. "It's rather odd, really."

Malik was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Ah, don't worry about him. If he's staying away from you, then I say you should take it as a blessing." He pulled Ryou back and rolled over on top of him, meeting his chocolate gaze squarely. "I know I do." Then he leaned down and captured Ryou's lips with his own.

Ryou felt himself melt into Malik as the blonde moved his soft lips against Ryou's, and again he had the sensation of soaring as he had had earlier, soaring above every problem and every woe into a simple paradise of chaste bliss, a paradise held behind his closed eyelids, where the darkness that normally filled one's vision was muted by beautiful light that radiated from his heart. Even the weight that should have been Malik laying on top of him was reduced to nothing by the sheer emotion of the kiss. Instinctively, Ryou wrapped his arms around the blonde's waist, pulling him closer, as if he could absorb the boy into his body and they could become one. As Malik slipped his tongue between Ryou's lips, Ryou felt an almost scalding warmth drip down his throat and melt over his racing heart, searing pleasurably through his chest and spreading down his body like the rosy fingers of dawn stretching through the nighttime sky, glowing tendrils reaching down through his stomach to his waist through his legs to the very tips of his toes, making him feel warm and serene all over.

Finally, Malik pulled away, breathing deeply and smiling down at Ryou, who dreamily smiled back. Malik leaned down and pressed his lips against the soft, ivory skin of Ryou's neck, sliding his hands in between them to caress the boy's exposed chest and ghosting his fingertips over the heated flesh down to his navel. Ryou felt his spine automatically arch under the touch, though the action was very much hindered by Malik's weight on top of him. Ryou clenched his fist around a lock of Malik's pale-blonde hair, his head rolling back to expose more of his neck, which Malik was drawing his tongue across in a most sensual way that made Ryou's heart, if at all possible, beat faster and his breathing become shorter and more erratic. The embers in the hearth suddenly flared in a brief bout of life, as if spurred by the boys' growing passion, temporarily illuminating the room in a soft orange before dying completely, plunging the room into almost-darkness. The only light came from the window, where the waxing moon was hanging outside in the black velvet stretch of sky.

Malik alternated between kissing and licking Ryou's flushed skin as the blonde trailed down the other's neck, moving to his collarbone, and then further down to his chest. Ryou had never felt so pleasured before, so hungry and desperate, so at the mercy of another yet not frightened a bit. He wanted Malik, and knew that Malik wanted him; he _wanted_ Malik to have him, wanted so badly to stay with Malik and never have to be in anyone else's company, never have to face the world again. He wished the moon outside would encase them in its light and lock them away in time where moments like these would never fade, where he would forever feel safe and loved.

Finally, just as the blonde reached the end of his ministrations at Ryou's navel, where he refused to go further, he crawled back up to the white-haired teen's mouth and planted one last, chaste kiss on Ryou's soft lips, which immediately turned up in a smile. Malik took a moment to catch his breath, resting his head on Ryou's slightly heaving chest. Ryou absentmindedly twisted locks of Malik's stardust-blonde hair around his pale, slender fingers.

Then, Malik sat up and dug his elbows into the couch on either side of Ryou, propping his face in his hands so he could meet the smaller boy's half-lidded gaze squarely. His violet orbs roved over Ryou's face, taking in every detail, memorizing every contour with the loving scrutiny of one who never wanted to forget the person at whom they were looking, one who wanted that face burned into their retinas, wanted that face to be imprinted behind their eyelids so that every time they closed their eyes all they saw was _that face_. And Malik was one such person.

Malik then shifted, rolling to the left onto his side so that Ryou had to roll to the right, putting them in the same position they had been in earlier, with Malik lying behind Ryou, his arm wrapped around the boy's waist, nuzzling his nose into the back of Ryou's neck, and Ryou staring into the black void of the Ravenclaw common room. Ryou closed his eyes and felt nothing but a comforting warmth all around him as sleep began to overcome him.

"Did you know, Ryou," Malik said after moments of silence, "that you are the most beautiful person I've ever seen?"

Ryou opened his eyes halfway, a smile making its way across his lips. He sighed in response.

Malik continued, reaching over Ryou's shoulder to caress his cheek, "Not only are you beautiful here," his hand slid down from the smaller boy's face to his chest, where the blonde could feel the steady beating of Ryou's heart pulsing beneath his fingertips, "but you're beautiful here. And that," he tightened his embrace around the boy, "is why … I love you."

" … "

"Ryou?"

" … "

Malik let out a small, amused chuckle. Apparently the white-haired boy had fallen asleep. He rubbed his cheek against Ryou's soft, white mane before murmuring, "Goodnight."

Ryou's brown eyes bored into the black hearth as Malik's breathing became deep and steady, sleep taking the Egyptian into its arms. Malik believed Ryou to be asleep, but after Malik's confession, Ryou was anything but. And though it only seemed fitting that Ryou return the admission of love, he found the words stuck on the tip of his tongue, refusing to leave his lips.

---

He was cold … very cold. The wind swept in great gusts over the desert, over him, sending goosebumps all over his exposed body. The sand blew into his face, miniscule grains pelting at his arms and chest and stomach and thighs and legs … he was naked. Almost. Well, no, he was naked, as the shackles clamped around his wrists, neck, and ankles couldn't count as clothing. No, he was naked. The heavy, iron chains hung limply from the metal clamped tightly around his pale flesh that was raw and bleeding. Yes, bleeding … _profusely_. The bittersweet, liquid scarlet ran down his chest from the shackle around his throat, trickled down his wrists, pooled around his feet as the cold iron bit painfully into his skin. And he was crying. He shouldn't have been, though …

Because Malfoys _never _cried in the face of physical pain.

But, nevertheless, the tears fell down his wind-bitten cheeks in crystal trails, stinging the tender flesh of his face. The sun that hung over the desert was veiled by thick, pearly gray clouds, covering the dunes in shade and leaving the wind to cool the area. The wind howled across the sand in mocking patterns, gusting around Draco and spitting the sand in his face. The tears fell heavier, placing him on the brink of uncontrollable sobbing. He would've raised his hands to his face to cover his shame, but the shackles were unbearably heavy, the chains weighing his wrists down, pain shooting up his arms from the stinging welts rubbed into his raw flesh. But it didn't matter; there wasn't anyone around to see him in all his wretched glory.

The wind suddenly abated, though only enough to cease its taunting howling and gusting, quelling down to a cool breeze coasting over the desert sands. The hairs on the back of Draco's neck stood on end in warning, his skin turning to ice, as if his heart had frozen and was chilling him from the inside out.

He wasn't alone.

He looked up, willing his tear-blurred vision to clear. Then, his heart jumped, sending blood pounding through his body as it simultaneously drained from his face. His silver eyes widened as they met the emerald gaze of …

Harry Potter.

Draco whimpered, immediately folding his body and dropping to his knees to cover himself as much as possible. Though, as he looked back at Harry standing in the sand naught but six feet from him (fully clothed, the blonde noted enviously), he noticed that the boy didn't seem bothered in the least by Draco's nudity. It was as if he didn't even know that Draco was naked. Maybe … Maybe he wasn't, in Harry's eyes.

Despite Harry's sudden presence, Draco couldn't stop his tears from falling, couldn't hide his shame and wretchedness … his body covered in blood, his iron binds cutting into his skin, his sobbing, his pain and fear and self-loathing, his distress and anguish. Everything was laid out before Harry's eyes, and yet the raven-haired boy didn't seem fazed. He took a few more steps towards the crouching blonde, stirring the grains beneath his feet as he did so. The wind tousled his dark locks, blowing them this way and that, and the pale light graced his features with an almost ethereal demeanor, making the boy all the more …

… _beautiful_ … at least, in Draco's eyes.

The blonde was barely breathing as Harry simply stood there before him, staring down at him with unchanging, emerald eyes void of any intense emotion. "Why are you sitting like that, Malfoy?" he asked, sounded genuinely curious.

"What are you …? You mean … you can't see …?" Even through his tear-thickened voice, his wonder was evident. Harry really couldn't tell that he was bare? A strange sense of relief flooded him then, but was quickly replaced with another worry.

Why was Harry here?

This was bad. Draco was here, Harry was here, and they were all alone, and Draco was naked, goddammit! Who's twisted idea was this? It was clear that day by day, Draco's longing grew. His longing to show Harry how much he loved him and his longing for Harry to return that love. And not all of his longings were simply for chaste love, but for things darker and more passionate. Every time he saw Harry smile, Draco wanted nothing more than to drop what he was doing and pin the boy up against the wall, to claim that mouth that smiled in a way that affected him so. But it was hopeless, it was all hopeless … Harry didn't love him, and, as far as Draco knew, he never would. The blonde would live day by day, year by year, always thinking about Harry, always yearning for his touch, for his kiss, for his love … but never getting it.

"Hopeless …" Draco whispered, his word carried away on the gentle breeze sweeping through the desert.

"Pardon?" Harry looked confused.

"Nothing," Draco murmured, getting slowly to his feet. He winced as the iron shackles ground into his open wounds, blood still seeping from the gashes beneath the metal. Surprisingly, the loss of blood didn't seem to be life-threatening, however much the injuries stung. Tears were still rolling silently down Draco's face; he didn't seem to be able to make them stop, and, quite frankly, he didn't care anymore.

Suddenly, Harry gasped. Draco jumped, startled, and wondered if the green-eyed boy had finally noticed the blonde's nudity, his heart beginning to race with panic. He felt a blush start to creep beneath his face until he noticed that something wasn't right. He blinked, looking Harry straight in the eye, and realized that his normally sharp, emerald orbs were clouded, made a dull jade-green. He was in pain … and he was _deathly _pale … and … _oh God_, Draco thought.

Blood.

A scarlet drop was trickling from Harry's lip … but not from his lip, rather, from _behind _it, as if the blood were coming from within his mouth. The rose-red liquid trickled down Harry's chin, dripping into the sand and leaving a ruby stain on the grains. Draco watched, horrified, unable to move, unable to speak …

Then, there came a gag from within Harry's throat, his face contorted in pain as he dropped to his knees, pained tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He clutched at his stomach, gasping.

Finally gaining control of his frozen senses, Draco knelt down next to the boy and asked nervously, "Potter … what's wrong?"

"Nnng …" Harry groaned in response, pulling his arms away from his midriff. Draco looked down and gasped. His hands and forearms were coated in thick, scarlet blood.

"Potter!" Draco grabbed Harry's shoulders, tried to get the stunned boy to look at him, but no sooner had he touched the raven-haired boy than his olive skin flaked from his face. Draco pulled back, horrified, as Harry met his metallic gaze. The blonde let out a strangled sob, his hand raising to clasp over his mouth as tears rolled freely down his face. Harry's eyes were …

Dead.

Harry was dead. The boy crumbled into dust and blew away on the wind, blood and all. Draco's heart, like a glass figurine, shattered into a million tiny pieces, the shards piercing his body, numbing him from the inside out. He had never known his heart could break so badly, never known heartache could be so … _painful_. It hurt, oh God, it hurt! He was left alone in the desert with the memory of those haunting, empty eyes burned into his mind, sobbing uncontrollably, each cry and gasp shuddering through his body as he clawed desperately at the sand where Harry had been. He was gone.

The pain was unbearable, the pain of the shackles grinding into his wounds, his blood flowing freely. He was now practically covered in his own blood, down his chest and stomach, his ankles, his hands and arms … it was pooling in a scarlet puddle around him … blending with the tears falling in crystal drops from his face. His throat was raw from sobbing, his naked body trembling uncontrollably.

"No," he whispered as the wind began to attack the desert once more, gusting and blowing fervently. His voice was lost amidst the howling. Sand blew into his face, his eyes, pelting his exposed flesh like miniscule bullets, stinging, burning … "NO!" he shouted, loud enough to be heard above the wind. "NO! NO! NO! NO! Oh God, NO!…"

He kept shouting it over and over again, as if the words could bring Harry back.

But they couldn't. Harry was dead.

---

"NO!" Draco gasped, eyes flying open. He bolted upright, grasping at his chest. "NO!" he repeated. "No, no, no …" He was breathing so erratically that his lungs felt as if they were on fire. His eyes stung with tears, tears that were flowing freely, shamelessly down his face. His hand flew to his mouth to stifle his cries and gasps, lest he wake his roommates.

But it was too late. Already, there were groggy murmurs sounding in the darkness of the dorm. One such murmur seemed to have come from right beside him, though it was not tired in the least, but rather, frightened and worried.

"Draco!" It was Blaise. "Draco, what's wrong?"

The blonde felt the edge of his bed dip as his friend climbed onto it. Blaise reached through the darkness and felt Draco's face, drawing a sharp breath at the warm tears he found there.

"Draco, are you … crying?" Blaise whispered.

"He's dead!" Draco gasped frantically, clutching Blaise's shoulders. "He's dead!"

"Who's dead?" Blaise asked calmly, trying to sooth his obviously distraught and disoriented friend.

"_Him_!" Draco answered, knowing that Blaise would understand whom he meant.

"… Oh. Draco, it was just a nightmare. Calm down," the slight boy coaxed gently.

Draco leaned back against his pillow, wiping the tears from his cheeks. His face was so wet; it seemed as if he'd been crying in his sleep for quite a bit of time. His throat was raw and sore, his breathing and heart just beginning to slow back to normal paces.

"Better?" Blaise murmured.

"Mmhm." Draco felt so pathetic. Who was he to be sobbing like this, crying like a lost child? Pathetic. "… Thanks," he whispered awkwardly. It wasn't in a Slytherin's nature to express gratitude easily, or to cry, for that matter, in which case Draco had defied two laws of the unwritten Slytherin code in one night.

Then again, it also wasn't in a Slytherin's nature to fall in love with a Gryffindor … Harry Potter, no less, the picture of pure Slytherin contrast.

"Is Draco all right?" came Crabbe's tired voice from the other side of the room.

"Yeah," Blaise answered. "Yeah, he's all right. Everyone go back to sleep."

No one argued.

"Are you going to be okay?" Blaise asked as he slipped off the bed.

"Yes."

Draco heard the rustle of pajamas and shuffle of feet across the carpet, followed by the groan of the mattress as Blaise climbed back into bed. "All right. G'night, Draco."

"G'night," the blonde responded, laying down and pulling the covers around him. Although, he didn't think that "goodnight" was the appropriate phrase for that moment, as it was most likely nearly dawn.

Nevertheless, Draco closed his eyes. Those haunting, dead, green orbs stared back at him. He choked back another sob before falling into an uneasy sleep.

---

The next morning, Draco awoke to an empty dorm. He'd obviously slept late, which wouldn't surprise him, seeing that he'd slept so uneasily after he'd awoken from his nightmare.

His nightmare …

He threw the covers off and swung his feet around the edge of the bed, raking his fingers through his pale locks, which immediately fell into place. He quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a black sweater, slipping on his socks and shoes before heading down to the Great Hall, hoping to catch the end of breakfast. He was also hoping that Blaise would still be down there; he needed desperately to talk to the boy and unburden the details of his nightmare, which were weighing his heart down like a lead ball.

As he trekked down the staircase and stepped into the Slytherin common room, he began thinking. Okay, so it wasn't the first time he'd dreamed of Harry. It _definitely _wasn't the first time he'd dreamed of Harry. But, it _was_ the first time he'd dreamed of the boy dying. Draco shuddered at the thought. Although, he had dreamed before of himself naked, and he'd before dreamed of blood and chains … also deserts and howling winds … and tears. He was always crying in the dreams involving the aforementioned symbols: nudity, blood, chains, deserts, wind … it all had to mean something. He'd never really considered that before, but now that they had done dream interpretation in Divination, he was beginning to wonder if the dreams could really mean something.

Draco suddenly remembered the Defense Against the Dark Arts class of their third year, how Professor Lupin had done boggarts with them. Draco hadn't had a chance to face the creature, as pretty much was the same with half the class, after Lupin had interrupted Harry's turn and ended the demonstration straight away. He now wondered what the boggart would have turned into for him. He'd never given it much thought before, but now he was certain that if he were to face a boggart it would become Harry …

Dead.

With those same lifeless green eyes, dulled to a pale shade of green by death, their usual spark and zeal absent, the emotions gone forever … as well as Harry himself. Gone … forever … _dead_. Just the thought almost made Draco cry again. He didn't know _what _he'd do if anything ever happened to Harry, didn't know what he'd do if Harry were to die. Draco clearly remembered his heart … how it had broken … He was sure he had never felt pain such as that before … oh God, it had hurt like hell. He was sure if he was made to endure that pain for the rest of his life, it would kill him.

Draco was pulled from his thoughts as he entered the Great Hall, surrounded by the comforting, familiar, warm atmosphere, the sky above a pale, pearly gray. _Just like it had been in my dream_, Draco noted. Yes, he remembered, the sky that had hung over the desert in his nightmare had been a winter sky, a sheet of gleaming gray, soft and shadowed. What could that possibly mean …?

"Draco!"

Draco stopped in his tracks at the sound of his name and looked around. He blinked, turning. He had walked passed his usual seat at the Slytherin table, the whole time staring up at the ceiling. He hurried back to his friends, suppressing the embarrassed blush threatening to creep across his face. He sat down with brief "good mornings" and "hellos" before pulling toast and bacon onto his plate. He grabbed an apple from a nearby bowl, the skin a bright, healthy green.

"So what happened last night, Draco?" Goyle immediately asked.

"Oh … I just … er … had a nightmare, is all," Draco answered vaguely. He leaned to his right and whispered to Blaise, "Which I need to talk to you about later."

Blaise nodded and took a sip of his juice.

"Oh, my poor Draco," Pansy crooned mockingly.

"Sod off, Parkinson," the blonde growled, metallic eyes flashing.

Conversation drifted onto different topics, and soon breakfast was over. Students began to file out, but Blaise and Draco stayed behind, taking the advantage of weekend liberties such as lingering in the Hall between meals. Once everyone within earshot was gone, Blaise turned to Draco.

"So?" he began. "What's up?"

"I need you to help me interpret my nightmare," Draco answered.

"You want to … interpret it?" Blaise wondered.

"Yes."

The brunette took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he shrugged. "All right. Let's get up to the library."

"Why the library?" Draco inquired as they stood from the table.

"Where else do you plan to find dream interpretation texts?"

"What about our Divination books?"

"Those are a load of rubbish. I mean, _come on_, this is Trelawney we're talking about. No, there are bound to be better ones in the library."

With that said, the two boys headed upstairs to begin their task, Draco all the while going over his dream again. Nudity, blood, chains, deserts, wind, tears … didn't sound too promising.

---

"I tried to warn him," Hermione said with remorse. "He just wasn't having any of it."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik were making their way up to the library to work on their homework. Earlier that morning, Hermione had gone out to Hagrid to warn him about Umbridge. She was keeping tabs on all the teachers and weeding out the ones that were "unsatisfactory", which, in her case, meant "a danger to the Ministry". Although, she _had _put Trelawney on probation; there weren't many that would argue with that decision. But now that Hagrid was back, she was sure to swoop down on him like a hawk and immediately begin picking at his flaws until he, too, was on probation. Harry, Ron, and Hermione would not allow that. Hermione had tried to urge Hagrid to pick up Professor Grubbly-Plank's lessons, which were far more … normal … than any of Hagrid's lessons had ever been. Harry and Ron had told Ryou, Yuugi, and Malik all about Hagrid that morning at breakfast, and from what they heard, he was a wonderful guy with an uncanny interest in dangerous creatures. He was also half giant, and he lived in the hut down by the Forbidden Forest. He was not just a teacher, but a friend, and a good one at that, who was always ready to help any who needed it. He had helped Harry, Ron, and Hermione on numerous occasions, and just the thought of him on probation made their hate for Umbridge flare anew.

The group reached the library and headed for the back where it was sure to be the quietest and the most secluded, a place where they could not only do their homework, but discuss topics that would otherwise land them in trouble, were they heard talking about such things. To their surprise, the area in the back of the library was not abandoned, as it usually was, but being used by two students …

Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini.

They were sitting across from one another, Blaise flipping through a book, a pile of other books stacked beside him. Draco was sitting there, looking paler than usual. He looked up as the group turned round a bookcase into the secluded area and groaned … almost _wearily_.

"What are _you _doing here?" he snapped, though his voice lacked its usual edge, which nearly startled the others.

"We'd like to ask you the same thing," Harry said, instinctively glaring at the blonde.

But Draco wasn't glaring back. It was more like … _staring _… and as he did so, what little color he had left in his face faded, making him look like some porcelain doll. Harry couldn't be certain, but he was sure he saw _pain _reflected in Draco's silver eyes.

Whatever the emotion had been, it was soon gone as Draco scowled, obviously annoyed. "What does it look like we're doing? We're researching. Come on, Potter, I knew you were stupid, but slow, too?"

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione cut him off.

"Researching what?" she wondered, trying to steal a glance at one of the book titles.

"None of your bloody business." Draco snatched the pile of books off the table, pushing them away so that no one could see the titles. "Point is, if you're looking for privacy, you'll have to go elsewhere."

Harry and Ron looked ready to say something, but they were led away before the words could escape their mouths. Hermione took them by the arms and motioned for the others to follow. Soon they were out of earshot of the two Slytherins, and she sat down at a table. It wasn't as secluded as the other area had been, but it would do.

"So what do you reckon they were really doing here?" Ron said as the rest of them sat down, too.

"I think they were … researching," Hermione answered.

"Researching what?" Yuugi wondered.

"Dream interpretation," Hermione and Malik said in unison. Malik, too, had caught one of the book titles and inferred as to what the volume was about.

"Something for Trelawney?" Ron mused.

"No, we finished dream interpretation a while ago," Ryou pointed out.

"Whatever. Let's stop worrying about those gits and get to work," Hermione suggested.

The others nodded in agreement as they took out their books, parchment, and quills.

Atemu and Bakura were standing not too far away from the group, though far enough that their hosts couldn't hear them. They had seen the entire exchange between the Slytherins and the group, and had heard the little conversation the six had just had.

"So, you think Draco's been having troubling dreams?" Bakura wondered, grinning wickedly.

"Let's find out," Atemu said with a less roguish air. The spirits drifted towards the back of the library where Draco and Blaise were still flipping through the volumes.

"Ah, here we go," Blaise said, pointing at a passage in the text. "'_NUDITY_'. It says here that '_When one finds himself naked in his dream and is frightened or startled, it implies that he has a secret he feels isn't very secret. He feels that everyone can see right through him, that he's as transparent as glass, that he's _naked_ with everything laid out before the eyes of others._'"

Draco shook his head. "But, he didn't seem to be able to tell that –"

"'_However_'," Blaise interrupted, still reading, "'_if others in the dream seem not to notice the nudity of the dreamer, it implies that he is afraid of his secret being found out or his façade being uncovered, although in reality, his secret is still a secret. No one else can see through him. It can also represent the dreamer's desire (and failure) to be noticed or found out_.'" Blaise turned to Draco and said in a hushed voice, "So, I suppose it means that … well, since Potter was the only other person in your dream, you're afraid of him learning how you really feel about him, but at the same time wishing he knew."

Draco nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"Okay," Blaise said, going back to the book. "What else? Chains? Okay … 'C' … 'C' … 'C' …" He began flipping through the pages again. "Ah, here we go. '_CHAINS_'. '_If one finds himself chained in his dream, then it signifies that some part of him is being forcefully held back. Emotions, desires, ambitions are being suppressed_'… '_feels chained_' … '_locked up inside_' … and so on. That's pretty much self-explanatory. Your chained emotions … Not telling Potter how you feel."

"And I was bleeding because of the chains," Draco reminded. "The shackles were digging into my skin … I was bleeding from the one at my neck, the ones at my wrists, and the ones at my ankles … It really hurt." The blonde absentmindedly massaged his wrist, as if the memory stung.

"Okay … blood." Blaise flicked a couple pages back. "'_BLOOD_'. '_If one is bleeding or losing blood in his dream, it implies that he is physically or emotionally exhausted and drained. He is suffering from the strain._' Well, if you were bleeding because of the chains, I suppose it means you're feeling 'emotionally exhausted' from the strain of keeping your feelings locked up."

Draco chuckled dryly. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"All right. Next? Weren't you in a desert?"

"Yeah, but what would a desert have to do with any –"

"Well …" Blaise turned to the "D's", "'_Deserts represent feelings of loneliness, feelings of isolation and hopelessness. The dreamer feels like he is lost in a desert, all alone and utterly hopeless, never to be rescued._' I'd say the desert has a lot to do with this."

The words that registered most strongly with Draco were "hopeless" and "alone". Even amongst a group of friends, thinking of Harry made him lonely, a loneliness that only the raven-haired boy's company could satisfy, and the fact that Harry didn't love him, or even like him, for that matter, made a heavy sense of hopelessness settle itself in his heart. He'd come to accept both aspects of his feelings towards Harry and learned to live with them, but apparently they still bothered him, as they manifested themselves in his dreams.

"There was wind," Draco murmured.

Blaise looked up at Draco for a second before returning to the pages and flipping them back. "Wind … wind … wind … ah, '_WHIRLWIND_', '_WIND_', '_WINDMILL_', '_WINDOW_' … … just wind?"

"Yeah, really strong winds, like howling winds."

"Okay … '_WIND_'. '_Blowing, breezy winds …_' … er … ah, here we go. '_If one dreams of strong, gusting winds, it signifies turmoil. Stress and emotional strain, represented by the restless, relentless winds. There is some sort of chaos or distress currently in his life._'"

"You can say that again," Draco mumbled, dropping his gaze to the tabletop.

Blaise turned his blue eyes worriedly on his friend, watching him with great concern. "What else?" he prompted.

Draco thought back. "Tears …" he murmured. "I was crying … sobbing, really."

Blaise ruffled through the book again, coming to rest on the page with the "T's". "'_TEARS_'. '_When one dreams of himself crying, it implies that there is some sort of healing taking place in his life._'"

Draco snorted. "Yeah, right."

Blaise skimmed the passage. "Wait, here's something. '_Tears can often be forewarning, predicting a calamity. One's life might be stricken with some sort of tragedy or disaster in the near or distant future._'"

Draco drew a sharp breath. "Are you serious?" he said, his voice wavering considerably.

"I wish I wasn't, mate," Blaise replied, again flipping through the pages. "Now, you also said that Potter was bleeding, wasn't he? And he died. Let's see what it says about that." He went back to the beginning skimmed the page with all of the "B's". "Well, when you're not the one bleeding, it just says that seeing blood … well … blood symbolizes '_… life, passion, love … as well as disappointment_.' –"

"No," Draco interrupted. "It … Potter bleeding in my dream … it didn't seem symbolic. It seemed … normal, as if it could really happen. He was bleeding from his side … like he was _stabbed_, and then he died. It just … it felt … almost real. Like a premonition." The blonde felt a shiver run through his body, the thought that Harry might really die filling him with a leaden sense of horrible dread.

"Oh don't be so morbid. I think that just seeing him bleeding represented …" Blaise lowered his voice, leaning closer to Draco, "maybe your love for him."

The other shook his head, although wishing with all his heart that Blaise was right and he was wrong.

"Well." Blaise turned back to the book. "How about death? Let's see what is says about that …" He went forward a bit, flicking through the "C's" to come up to the "D's". "'_DEATH_'. '_If one dreams about the death of a loved one, it might imply that there is a certain aspect which the loved one embodies that you lack. One must ask himself what it is about the said person that makes them special to him or what it is that he likes about them. Whatever that is is what the dreamer is lacking in his relationship or circumstance. The death of this loved one might also suggest that whatever it is that the person represents is absent in the dreamer's own life._'" Blaise's cobalt eyes met Draco's dark, metallic gaze. The slight boy brushed a stray lock of brown hair from his face. "Well? What is it that you like about Potter?"

The blonde's gaze became suddenly thoughtful as he looked down at his hands, and his lips turned up in a slight smile. "Everything," he answered. "There's not just one thing that I can name. It's everything, everything that I like about him. I can't explain it …" He frowned. "Just like I can't explain how I _know _that his death in my dream wasn't symbolic. I think it was a vision, Blaise. I think he's going to die." Draco folded his arms across the tabletop and laid his head in them, pressing his forehead against his arms, all so that Blaise wouldn't see his eyes tearing. He wasn't one to cry, and here he was, on the verge of tears at the mere thought of Harry dying. It was pathetic.

He heard Blaise close the dream dictionary and set it aside.

"Draco, he's not going to die. Knowing you, you won't let him, even if he tried. Trust yourself to protect him, if you really think there's a need."

"But … But what if I … fail? What if he _does _die because I couldn't protect him?" The tears were obvious in Draco's voice.

"You won't," Blaise replied simply, taking the stack of dream interpretation volumes to return to the shelves. Draco heard the legs of Blaise's chair grate across the floor, but he didn't move, didn't pick his head up.

Atemu and Bakura traded questioning glances.

"Well …" Bakura said after a moment of silence. "I … uh … that sounded like an interesting dream."

"A nightmare," Atemu amended solemnly. "I can't imagine what it must be like, to see the one you love die, even in a dream. If Yuugi …" He couldn't bring himself to finish his thought.

"Yeah …" Bakura stared across the library where Ryou and his friends were sitting. Just the thought of those bright, brown eyes full of life and love and passion and innocent curiosity … to see those eyes just … dead … filled him with dread. If Ryou ever died, he … he didn't know what he'd do. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Draco, because Draco actually _had _seen Harry die … in his dream at least. And the possibility of his nightmare being prophetic was … horrifying, to say the least.

---

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I wanted to put more in this chapter, but I figured it was long enough, so all those ideas will go in the next chapter. So, what did you think? Still **TBC**! Oh, and all of those dream interpretations came from a website called Dream Moods ... although I didn't copy their words exactly. I am not a practitioner of plagiarism! Anyway, hope you liked it. Oh ... and does anyone have any idea where the MalikxRyouxBakura love triangle might be going?

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	10. Not So Fun

**Of Wizards and Duelists …**

_XO'MagickMoon'OX_

**A/N: **Oh my god, I haven't updated in so long! Ugh, honestly, in the three months that I've been posting fanfictions, this is the _longest_ it's taken me to update. I'm sorry! It's just … ugh, school … high school … so much homework … -_sniff_- … will it ever end? Nope, dun think so … but anyway … here's the next chapter! I'm sorry if the whole thing with MalikxRyouxBakura, YamixYuugi, HarryxDraco is starting to get old, but I promise there's a climax coming up soon! The next chapter, actually … it's gonna be good! But it's far from the end! Hope you're all enjoying it.

Well, anyway … read on!

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---

"Mr. Longbottom, what color is the brew supposed to be at this point?"

"Uh … oh … eh, a light yellow …"

"And what color is yours?"

"… Purple."

Snape rolled his eyes with a sigh of disgust and walked on as Neville tried to correct his potion … to no avail. The Potions Master came up alongside Harry's cauldron, the potion simmering inside it exactly as it was supposed to be. Harry didn't look up as Snape passed, but rather, continued working diligently, refusing to give Snape a reason to humiliate him. Snape scowled and went to sit at his desk, passing Harry a glare every now and then.

He wasn't the only one passing Harry looks. Atemu and Bakura noticed this as they went to stand before Draco Malfoy. The blonde was constantly glancing up at Harry whenever he felt that no one was watching, oblivious to the fact that there were two spirits observing him with the utmost scrutiny. What the two saw reflected in Draco's eyes whenever he looked at Harry was longing and pain and fear, all emotions perfectly understandable, what with his feelings for the raven-haired boy and the nightmare he had had a few nights ago.

Atemu then took Bakura by the wrist and led him out into the hallway where Yuugi and Ryou couldn't hear them. Not that their hosts were really paying attention to their yamis, as they were busy working on their own potions, but it was better safe than sorry. Atemu dragged Bakura through the door and down the corridor, where he then let go of the thief's captive wrist and leaned back against the wall in his trademark pose, arms folded across his chest, one ankle crossed over the other.

"What?" Bakura snapped, annoyed at being dragged out of the classroom so ungracefully.

"You know what I realized?" Atemu answered calmly.

"No …"

"You and Draco are a lot alike."

Bakura blinked, staring incredulously at the Pharaoh. " … Care to explain your reasoning?"

"Well, think about it," Atemu said, cocking his head to one side. "Draco hides his emotions like you do, bullying the one he loves. He figures the same as you: it's hopeless to even think about being with your secret love because they'll never love you back. If you ever wanted to try to win him over, there are multiple hurdles you'd have to jump, and chance of succeeding is little to none. Therefore, you hide your feelings behind a cruel and icy façade, figuring the closest thing to love that'll ever exist between you and him is hate, and that's better than nothing at all."

Bakura stared fixedly down at the floor as Atemu's observation ran through his head.

" … "

It was true; Ryou hated him. There was nothing now that Bakura could possibly do to change that. Ryou would never love him, and Bakura would rather stay connected to Ryou through undying loathing, if not through undying love. Draco was the same way.

Unbeknownst to the spirits, Draco had tried and failed to befriend Harry, and that was what had started their rivalry. It was all too true that Draco felt the only way to stay constant in Harry's life was to have him hate him. Draco wanted Harry to feel something for him, wanted some emotional intensity emanating from the raven-haired boy to himself, and knew that, considering their relationship, the only thing he'd get was loathing … and that was better than no feeling at all. At least Draco would get to see a flare of passion in those emerald eyes when the blonde taunted him. Anger, hate, annoyance, frustration … they were all at least _something_, however badly Draco would rather see other forms of passion in Harry's eyes.

But there was something Atemu failed to point out, something else that both Bakura and Draco felt for their respective beloved ones. In a way, Bakura noted, he and Draco did hate Ryou and Harry … but the reasons for their hate weren't as superficial as they let on. Sure, those who looked on the surface of Bakura and Ryou's relationship would believe that the tomb robber hated Ryou for his weakness, his pathetic demeanor, and that the hikari hated his yami because Bakura was so cruel to him. As for Draco and Harry, to others it would seem that the two were simply longtime rivals, too different to possibly be friends or anything more. Draco was a high-and-mighty, pureblood brat who loved to make Harry's life a living hell, and Harry was somewhat of a troublemaker, the hero of the Wizarding World. _Too _different to be anything but bitter enemies.

These were the façades that Bakura and Draco hid behind. If one were to destroy these masks of carved ice, they'd find the warm glow of true, undying love … albeit tainted with a certain frustration, a certain _hate_. Yes, they did hate their secret loves, but only _because _they loved them. They hated them because their love would never be returned, because their love was surely condemned to be forever unrequited. So, in a way, Atemu was wrong, and in a way, he was right.

Bakura hated Ryou …

Draco hated Harry …

But only because Bakura loved Ryou …

And because Draco loved Harry …

So all in all, Atemu's observation that Bakura and Draco were alike was pretty much accurate.

_Pretty much_ …

"You say that to win over the ones we love, Atemu, there'd be multiple hurdles we'd have to jump. True, we _do _both have hurdles to jump, but my hurdles are higher than his," Bakura said solemnly, still staring down at the gray stone floor.

"How so?"

"Well, first of all, there's Malik –"

"And for Draco, his competition is Cho Chang," Atemu pointed out. Then, as an afterthought, he said, "Not only that, but Draco doesn't even know if Harry's interested in other guys. So, even if Harry didn't like Cho, there'd still be that."

Bakura then met Atemu's ruby gaze squarely. "Okay, well … at least Draco has a body. Both Draco and Harry are human. We're spirits, Atemu. Ryou and Yuugi are human. The two aren't meant to be together; it's just too difficult. We don't _exist _on the physical plane, Atemu. The only reason we can be seen by our hosts is because of just that … they're our _hosts_. They share a connection with us that no one else does, but that connection was, and is never meant to be, a romantic one. Fate is against us, Atemu."

"But …" The Pharaoh's calm demeanor cracked a little, and worry bled through. He was not ready to accept this. He would never so easily give up his feelings for Yuugi or his struggle for the boy's love. Okay, so maybe he wasn't exactly _struggling _per se, but he would never give up hope that he and Yuugi could be together.

But apparently Bakura had given up on he and Ryou, and the king felt this pessimism beginning to weigh down his own heart. After all, even though Yuugi was available, he was still Atemu's host, as the thief had pointed out. And, as he had also mentioned once before, if Ryou and Yuugi found out about their yamis' feelings and didn't return them, then everything would be all the more awkward, and such a confession of love might distance the hikaris and yamis, which was the last thing either of the spirits wanted.

But – there was that golden-winged glimmer of hope again – what if, their hosts _did _return their feelings? Well, so maybe Ryou was already in love with someone else, but what if _Yuugi_ returned Atemu's feelings, the Pharaoh wondered. What if Yuugi did love him? He wouldn't need a body; Yuugi's love would be enough.

Wouldn't it?

"You make it sound like we can't have nonphysical relationships with the boys," Atemu said, voicing his thoughts. "If, say, both Yuugi and I loved each other, what need for a body would there be?"

Bakura sighed wearily. "Atemu, get real. A good, loving relationship can't exist solely on words and feelings; you need actions, you need to express yourself through kisses and touches and … Well, you get the point. Unfulfilled desires leads to emotional exhaustion and an ultimately doomed relationship."

It was Atemu's turn to sigh as he stared down at the floor. He knew that Bakura was telling the truth, sad as it was. A relationship between a spirit and a human could never last long, and its end would be bitter. If he were ever to have a romantic relationship with Yuugi, he wouldn't want it to end.

"So, the point is, I have one hurdle higher than Draco, and that makes all the difference." Despite his calm and matter-of-fact tone, Bakura was beginning to feel a flame of contempt towards the aforementioned blonde Slytherin flare in his gut. He couldn't explain the sudden sensation exactly, but he was sure it had something to do with Atemu relating Draco's situation with his own, and maybe – just maybe – this feeling of contempt was spurred from … jealousy?

Bakura turned his piercing, brown eyes on the Potions room door, imagining the blonde on the other side that was so close to his love, when really it was like they were miles away. It was the same for Bakura. So close to Ryou, yet really so far away. He could feel the hopelessness that Draco was surely feeling, the love and the longing. Atemu was right … he and Draco were a lot alike. Although their obstacles may have been different, their emotions were just the same. But this revelation didn't douse the flame of contempt he felt, but rather, fed it, making it burn and grow with more passion, more jealousy. He wanted to storm right in their and tell the longtime enemies to kiss and make up … literally. Well, maybe not in that order, but …

Anyway, Bakura was frustrated. He wanted Draco to just admit his feelings, he wanted Draco to have Harry like he wanted to have Ryou. He felt like … he felt like Draco was suffering when he didn't have to, and this added anger to Bakura's feelings of envy and hatred.

Then the class filed out, and Bakura joined Atemu against the wall to avoid being run through by the students.

The Gryffindors walked through the doors, looking somber as they usually did when leaving Potions, although Harry's mood wasn't as sour as it would have been had Snape harassed him. Actually, Harry was quite proud of himself for brewing the potion perfectly and handing it in at the end of class, shimmering in the glass vile as he placed it on Snape's desk, smiling at the man's utter astonishment and horror. He grinned at the memory.

Then the Slytherins came out behind the others, one knot of students noticeably quieter than usual. At the center of that knot was the quietest of them all: a certain silver-eyed, platinum-blonde. Around him stood Pansy and Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle, and the other usual groupies. An intense aura of loathing surrounded all but one. It would have made their day to see Snape yell at Harry as was customary. They were like children whose parents had taken away their most beloved candy. This made them all the more snappier and eager to get at the Golden Boy.

"So how does it feel, Potter, to finally brew a potion right for once in your life?" Pansy jibed at the Gryffindor.

Hermione, Ron, Harry, Ryou, and Yuugi stopped in their tracks and turned simultaneously to face the Slytherin group, three of them already itching to grab their wands and two prepared to spout the first jinxes that came to mind. Like their serpentine peers, Snape's inability to rebuke Harry in class had thrown off their emotions, and now that their hatred and anger hadn't been taken out on the vile Potions Master, they had extra to spare for the Slytherins.

"Probably the same way it feels to finally get that breast-enlarging spell right, eh Parkinson?" Hermione sneered.

Pansy turned red with fury, baring her fangs at the bushy-haired girl. "Heh, yeah right, Granger. _I'm _not the one who needs it," Pansy retorted, glaring pointedly at Hermione.

Ron held onto Hermione's arm to keep her from pouncing on the Slytherin vixen, who looked just as about ready to rip Hermione apart with her manicured nails … or claws, rather, as Hermione looked about ready to sock Pansy in her stupid, pug-nose.

Atemu and Bakura watched as the two groups of students continued their battle of wit. All throughout the beginning, Draco had been particularly quiet, being uncharacteristically reserved. Perhaps he wasn't as upset about their recent Potions class as his friends were. After his nightmare, he wasn't really up for seeing Harry in any sort of distress, and being humiliated by Snape would definitely go under that category. But then, after the first few insults had been exchanged, he had jumped into the spat, pushing through his circle of friends to stand before the Gryffindors. It was only natural that he be directly before Harry, being that they were the archrivals. They began to go at it, Harry becoming increasingly angry at Draco's taunts and mocks, playing right into the Slytherin's hands. It was his aim to get Harry all flustered and furious. Not only did it go right along with Draco's well-sculpted façade, but the raven-haired boy was just so adorable when he was all worked up. Maybe if Draco was lucky, Harry would go to hit him or wrestle with him, being the bloody Gryffindor that he was, and Draco would be able revel in his touch. Yeah, it was twisted, but after lusting after the boy he loved for the past few years, it was the only way he knew to get to feel Harry's touch and to get to touch him in return, though maybe not as intimately or sensually as Draco would have preferred. The physical pain that went along with it would just have to be endured, all for the ultimate fulfillment of Draco's desires.

Little did Draco know, he wouldn't have to wait for a scuffle with Harry to get to touch him. Bakura, still watching the episode before him, was growing increasingly angered at the blonde. After Atemu's revelation, he saw way too much of himself in Draco to possibly allow the boy to torture himself as he was. He was continuing to hide behind his mask, continuing to stand right before the boy he loved and just let it all pass him by. He could lean forward right now and just _kiss _Harry if he wanted, he was so close. Okay, so that would be a bit bold and stupid, to say the least, but it didn't change the fact that he _could_. Blinded by his jealousy and budding frustration, Bakura silently slipped into the Ring.

_Yadonushi, retreat to your mind chamber_, he ordered Ryou.

_What? Why? _

_Just do it!_

Bakura's demanding, harsh tone made Ryou flinch. It had been so long since Bakura had actually yelled at him like that … Ryou felt his stomach flutter, from fear and nervousness, no doubt. He complied and slipped into his soul room, immediately feeling isolated from everyone, even Bakura. He knew that this would be like all the other times when Bakura had possessed him and Ryou had returned to his body with no clue as to what his yami had been up to. It was always when Bakura didn't want his host to know about his doings that he told him to sit in his mind chamber, where Bakura would cut off their mind-link and leave his yadonushi in obliviousness.

The Ring was glowing, but no one seemed to take notice except Yuugi; everyone else was too caught up in the showdown. Ryou gained a bare inch in height, his warm eyes growing cold, his skin becoming less creamy-looking and more icy, his expression immediately creasing into a scowl.

"Bakura?" Yuugi breathed.

The thief didn't answer. He stepped around Harry, an audacious grace about his stride, and met Draco's bemused eyes briefly, fully aware of everyone else's equally perplexed gazes on him, and grabbed the blonde's shoulder. Then he quickly stepped to the side and jerked the Slytherin forward, straight into Harry. Everyone gasped, and Draco could barely get "What the –" out of his mouth before he crashed into the raven-haired boy. He reached up to try and break the collision, but only succeeded in unintentionally groping Harry's chest, well-toned from years of Quidditch and heroics. Draco shivered at the feel of the other boy's muscled, albeit clothed, upper body beneath his hands and was vaguely aware of he and Harry crashing to the stone floor of the dungeons.

Everyone was silent, the air braced with confusion and horror. No one moved, or even dared to breath, as the situation was assessed by all of those around: both Draco and Harry's groups (minus Ryou), Atemu and Bakura, various Gryffindors and Slytherins that had stuck around after class to watch the spat, and some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who had arrived early for their Potions class.

Finally, after Draco's head had stopped spinning and the starbursts brought on from hitting the floor had cleared from Harry's vision, they realized what had happened. Draco was lying on top of Harry in the middle of the dungeon corridor, his hands braced against Harry's chest. Harry immediately turned bright red, and all of the blood drained from Draco's face as he stared down at the boy beneath him. Silver met emerald, both sets of eyes flashing with too many emotions to possibly pick out just one and name it.

_Malfoy really does have beautiful eyes … screw his eyes, Malfoy himself is beautiful – wait … WHAT? _Harry thought and promptly turned a darker shade of scarlet at his own absentminded musings. _Oh, this is not good … although, it is kind of nice – NO! No, no, no! Stop it!_

His heart hammering, Harry went to push Draco off of him. The blonde didn't hesitate to jump up, the blood suddenly returning to his face with a frightening intensity, gracing his pale cheeks with a rare blush. He immediately turned to Bakura, who was still standing to the side, watching everything unfold. The thief smirked.

As Harry scrambled to his feet and his friends went to make sure he was all right, Draco yelled at the white-haired boy, "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

Bakura then scowled, grabbing the collar of Draco's robes and dragging him some ways down the corridor, out of earshot of everyone else. After glimpsing the look on 'Ryou's' face, no one dared to follow.

Down the corridor, Bakura angrily pinned Draco to the wall, snarling at the frightened blonde.

"You are so stupid!" Bakura hissed.

Draco, trying to retain his pride and usual haughty air, snapped, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You … You can have that boy if you want! But you just sit around and do nothing! If you love him, you should fight for him!" Bakura said in the same hushed, deadly tone.

"What are you –" Draco froze mid-sentence as what 'Ryou' was saying finally started to register with him. He blanched. How had this boy known what he felt for Harry? If a near-complete stranger knew about his feelings, who else knew? More to the point, what the hell did 'Ryou' know about the whole situation? All of these thoughts rushed around Draco's mind in a steady river of worry and nausea.

But everything was wiped from his mind as he noticed that the fists clenched around his collar were trembling. He met the thief's eyes and saw tears dwelling at the corners.

Looking Draco straight in the face, Bakura could see the blonde's façade as clearly as if he were wearing an actual mask. It so mirrored his own that it, quite frankly, scared Bakura … and Bakura didn't scare easily. He now wanted so badly to just yell at himself, to bash his head into a wall over and over again, to scream and cry and gather Ryou in his arms and just hold him and never let him go. The fact that the latter wasn't possible just encouraged his urge to bash his head into a wall. He felt so stupid, just as he had accused Draco of being. They were both suffering from the same illness, but Draco's was a curable case, and Bakura's was terminal. Draco just refused to take the medicine. That's why he was stupid. Bakura felt stupid because the realization of what his façade looked like, what wretched state he was in, what he was doing to himself, was starting to sink in. He had been the one to hurt Ryou, he had been the one to make the boy hate him. He had been the one to realize his true feelings too late, and now Ryou was out of his reach. Most of his own suffering was all his fault He felt _stupid_.

All confusion and fear aroused by 'Ryou's' sudden outburst was forgotten as the boy's words ran through Draco's mind. _You can have that boy if you want ... If you love him, you should fight for him!_ Draco shook his head.

Then, in a voice so quiet that Bakura barely heard him, he said, "It's just not that easy."

The thief chuckled dryly, releasing Draco. "Nothing ever is, is it?"

Draco smoothed out his robes, watching 'Ryou' carefully. He could tell that this wasn't the same timid, quiet boy that he knew, albeit not very well. This boy seemed to somehow understand what Draco was going through, and this boy also had an edgier attitude. Draco thought back to October when 'Yuugi' had pinned him to the wall and had almost thrown him into a Dark portal. This boy emanated the same sort of powerful air that 'Yuugi' had had then. Draco had chalked it all up to Dark wizardry, but now, after seeing 'Ryou' acting in a similar way, he was beginning to wonder whether or not his assumption had been correct. "Who are you?" the blonde wondered.

Bakura smirked half-heartedly. "Thief King Bakura of ancient Egypt."

Draco frowned. "Seriously, who are you?"

"_Thief_ … _King _… _Bakura_ … _of_ … _ancient_ … _Egypt_," Bakura said slowly, accenting each word with a hint of frustration.

"You're a nutter."

"And you're an insolent brat."

Draco scowled. "Whatever." He stomped off down the corridor towards his next class, neglecting to return to his awaiting posse who were still standing outside the Potions room. Right now, he just wanted some space to think, even if it were for the few minutes it took to get to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

_You can have that boy if you want ... If you love him, you should fight for him! _

If only it were that simple.

---

As everyone sat down to lunch that afternoon. Atemu stood quietly outside the doors with an equally silent Bakura. Both seemed to have a lot on their minds. Bakura's shoulder kept twitching, which Atemu could attribute to the fact that Ryou and Yuugi were sitting at the Ravenclaw table for lunch, which meant that Ryou was with Malik, who most likely had his arm around Ryou's shoulder, hence the twitching. Atemu found himself thinking about how horrible Bakura's situation was, to not only have the one you love love someone else, but to be connected to the one you love while that person is with that someone else, and was secretly glad that Yuugi wasn't in a relationship with someone like Ryou was.

Suddenly, Bakura stiffened, and his shoulder ceased to twitch.

_Koe? _It was Ryou.

… _Yes, Yadonushi? _Bakura responded wearily.

… _Nothing. _

'_Nothing'? Why are you disturbing me for 'nothing'? _the thief snapped a bit harshly, as he was wont to do when talking with Ryou. He immediately regretted his tone when he heard Ryou's trembling reply.

_I'm … I'm sorry … I just …_

_You just … what?_

_Never mind._ Ryou closed the mind-link.

_Yadonushi! Wait!_

Silence.

… _Ryou … _

Bakura felt his heart sink briefly, before his chest swelled with anger. Who did Ryou think he was to close the mind-link on him? _Bakura _was the one who always closed it, not the other way around. Why that impudent little …

Bakura stalked off in the direction of the Ravenclaw table.

"Oh no …" Atemu groaned, following the tomb robber. He quickly caught up with the white-haired spirit. "Bakura, don't do anything stupid –"

"Don't lecture me, Atemu," the thief growled. He stopped suddenly and turned to the Pharaoh, feeling the need to explain something once and for all. "Look, I may love Ryou, but that doesn't change who I am. I am cruel, I am sarcastic, I am a power-hungry control-freak, and if I don't have control over something, I get scared, and I don't like to be scared! I will never hurt Ryou beyond repair, I will most definitely _never _lose him. As you pointed out earlier today, the only way I can stay constant in Ryou's life and not drift into the background is by having him hate me. That's the only emotional attachment I'll ever get. He needs to hate me, he needs to fear me … and lately I haven't been keeping up that connection and, simultaneously, my façade. If I lose both this connection and my mask, my entire world will come crashing down on me. Ryou will figure out that something's not right, we will grow distant, and I _will _lose him forever."

Atemu shook his head, sighing exasperatedly at Bakura's one-track mind as the thief continued on his path towards the Ravenclaw table. To Atemu it seemed that Bakura's logic was a bit topsy-turvy, but then again, Bakura _did _know Ryou better than the king did. But still …

Atemu then turned his sights on the Gryffindor table and spotted Harry. He was then assailed with an idea.

"Nnng," Ryou groaned, suddenly stiffening.

Malik looked inquisitively down at the white-haired teen, whose Millennium Ring was glowing ominously. The blonde scowled. "Oh no," he murmured.

Yuugi looked up at Ryou as well, and immediately shifted a few inches to the left, away from his friend. The golden light played across the bemused faces of Gabe, Jason, and Karen, all of whom were sitting across from the other three.

Finally, the Ring ceased to glow, and 'Ryou' straightened, glaring around the table. Ryou's spirit rippled into being behind Bakura, his expression one of desperate pleading.

"Koe, please …" he whispered, almost daring to touch his yami's shoulder, but knowing better.

Bakura peered over his shoulder at his yadonushi, and immediately snapped his head back around, the despair in Ryou's eyes almost making him soft. With the recent realization of his true feelings for the boy, Bakura found seeing him in sad states, states which he used to revel in causing, sent a pang through his heart.

Ryou blinked. There had been a strange expression on Bakura's face … or maybe it had just been Ryou's imagination. Yeah, that was probably it. The white-haired spirit just stood there obediently behind his yami, fearing the worst.

"What do you want?" Malik snapped irately.

"Oh, such harsh words coming from my boyfriend," Bakura whispered teasingly, wrapping his arm around Malik's neck and pulling him close.

The blonde stiffened indignantly. "Get your hands off of me!"

"Malik, what's wrong with you?" Karen wondered, staring across the table at the strange sight before her. Jason and Gabe were also puzzled. One minute, Malik was sitting contently with his arm around Ryou, and the next he was yelling at him.

Yuugi tried hopelessly to explain. "Uh, well … you see … guys, this is …" He was about to rattle off some bizarre excuse about Ryou having a split personality when suddenly his Puzzle began glowing.

_Yuugi, can I?_

_Yami, this isn't the best time –_

_I know, Aibou. Don't worry; Ryou will be fine. But I need to do something._

… _If you say so. All right._

_Please stay in your soul room._

_What? Why?_

_Because I need to have a private conversation with someone._

… _Okay_. Yuugi sounded dejected, and Atemu felt an immediate stab of guilt. He hated to close Yuugi off, but this time he had to.

Atemu took control. He stood from the table, quietly excusing himself. Bakura turned to the Pharaoh and glared at his retreating form. _What the hell is he up to?_

Bakura, however, didn't have time to further contemplate the matter.

"Koe, please … stop it …" Ryou was begging. He slid into Yuugi's now-empty seat and turned to Bakura, tears in his phantom eyes.

Bakura swallowed. His mask was slipping. "Ya-Yado … nushi … … Ryou …" He reached out towards the white-haired boy, at that moment wanting nothing more than to wipe away the tears he'd caused. But, when his fingers fazed through Ryou's cheek and the boy shuddered, Bakura's expression immediately hardened. He felt nothing … nothing but air. The warm, supple flesh that should have been Ryou's face was nonexistent. Bakura felt his eyes stinging.

_Dammit_, he mentally swore. Immediately he retreated to the Ring, and Ryou was painfully forced back into his body

Stars burst in Ryou's spinning vision as he swayed in his seat. He almost fell backwards, but Malik's strong arm snaked around his waist, holding him steady. Ryou leaned against the blonde gratefully, everything settling back into place. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and felt something warm rolling down his face. Reaching up, his fingers met tears, and the boy had a sneaking suspicion that they weren't his own.

The students began to file out of the Great Hall. Atemu had been standing at the entrance to the Great Hall ever since he'd taken over Yuugi, which totaled to about ten minutes. Over the course of those ten minutes, he'd been thinking about how he was going to approach a certain raven-haired Gryffindor with his inquiry.

The young witches and wizards exited with their respective cliques, and Harry's was one of the first. Atemu stepped forward and grasped Harry's arm, pulling him away from his friends.

"Yuugi?" Harry asked as he was led towards the wall. "What's going on?"

Hermione, Ron, Ryou, and Malik, Jason, Gabe, and Karen stopped and looked around. Ron spotted his best friend with Atemu and signaled for the others to follow. Jason, Gabe, and Karen dismissed themselves, and Malik said a brief, "See you later" before turning back to the task at hand. However, as Atemu saw the others approached, he held up a hand as a sign for them to stay away, leaving he and Harry to converse privately.

Atemu watched Harry for a moment, before saying frankly, "What do you think of Draco?"

Harry blanched. "What?" he asked. "I … I hate the bloody git, I –"

Atemu patiently raised his hand to silence the boy. Again he watched Harry in a way that made Harry feel as if he were a lab rat being observed by a scientist. It was unnerving. "Really?" Atemu grinned.

"Yes, really." Harry was beginning to grow flustered. "Why are you asking?" he wondered. Then, as an afterthought, he asked, "Did Malfoy say anything to you?"

"Is that a hopeful chord I hear?" Atemu's grin widened.

"Yuugi!" Harry cried.

The Pharaoh closed his eyes, smirking. "No."

Emerald orbs narrowed suspiciously. "Atemu?"

"Bingo."

"What are you doing? Why are you asking me questions about Malfoy?"

"I'm just … curious." The reason as to why Atemu was helping the blonde did, indeed, elude him, but he felt it had to be done. Perhaps it was because he, like Bakura, could relate to the boy, albeit not as well as the tomb robber could, and he sympathized with the Slytherin. It may have seemed hard to sympathize with someone as cold-hearted as Draco, but the Pharaoh knew the boy to wear his façade of ice just as Bakura did, and saw through it with ease.

Harry, contrary to Atemu's cool demeanor, was beginning to panic. His heart, at the mere mention of Draco, began to quicken, and he felt an uncomfortable heat crawl beneath his flesh, indicating a telltale blush. Why was this happening? Surely there was something wrong with him; maybe he was catching a cold. That might explain his flushed skin and somewhat strained breathing.

Sensitive spirit that he was, Atemu picked up on these fine details, and chuckled.

Harry, annoyed at Atemu's apparent amusement, scowled. "What's so funny?"

Atemu sighed with a smile, before answering, "Life … love … time … people in general."

The raven-haired Gryffindor, supremely baffled by this blunt answer, merely shook his head and darted away towards his awaiting friends. When they questioned him on 'Yuugi's' inquiry, he just remained silent.

All throughout Divination, as Trelawney continued to predict his impending doom, Harry let his mind wander. It wandered in particular over to his recent discussion (if it could be called that) with Atemu.

_Life …_

_Love …_

_Time …_

_People in general …_

What the hell did all of that mean? Well, it obviously meant something to Atemu, but it meant nothing to Harry. Well, almost nothing …

Life. Life was a very broad, a very interesting topic. Fate, Destiny … they were both threads that contributed to the great web that was Life. Harry was certain that it was Fate that he, Ron, and Hermione had met and become friends, just as he was certain that it was Fate that he and Draco had become enemies. But Destiny, that was a different story. Could Destiny perhaps have something else in store for them? Was Destiny maybe rewriting the scripts that Fate had created? Was it turning the tables, twisting what seemed to be so normal, so natural, into something different yet equally as normal and natural, just not seemingly so?

Harry shook his head. This was all very confusing.

Love. Oh, he didn't even want to start. The closest he'd ever come to loving, romantically at least, was Cho Chang. But she was more interested in Malik, Harry noted bitterly. But now, now he was puzzled. First at the Quidditch game against Slytherin, then earlier that morning when 'Ryou' had pushed Draco into him … Harry was beginning to _feel _things that he knew he shouldn't be feeling. Should he? No! It was wrong, on so many levels! One, he and Draco were enemies. Two, they were both guys! That couldn't be normal, for two guys, who weren't even _friends _in the first place, to have feelings for each other. Ah, which led to a third point: even if Harry did … _have feelings _for Draco, Draco wouldn't return them. How would he? How _could _he? Draco Malfoy, the Ice Prince of Slytherin, the most cold-hearted, arrogant bastard … how could he love? Could he even feel? And how could anyone _love _him in return, _feel _anything for him? His enemy, no less!

Harry groaned, putting his head in his hands. This … was … so … wrong.

Ron nudged Harry's leg under the table with his foot. "You all right, mate?" he whispered.

Harry looked up, taking a deep breath. He nodded yes. A total lie.

Time. He and Draco had been enemies for as long as he could remember. How had it all started? Oh, Harry remembered … he'd met Draco in the robe shop and had disliked him immediately. He seemed snide, arrogant, selfish, and cold, Harry's complete polar opposite. How could they ever expect to get along? Opposites repelled each other, didn't they?

Ah no, wait … opposites attracted.

Harry's fist clenched. Damn. This wasn't right … it wasn't _normal_, even for a wizard. Harry's gaze wandered over to where Ryou and Yuugi sat, and his first thought was, _This is all Ryou and Malik's fault, the bloody poufs. If it weren't for them, then I wouldn't even be thinking like this; they've … they've gotten weird ideas in my head._

No, Harry decided, he couldn't blame them; that wasn't fair. First of all, who was he to blame two people for loving each other, and if not loving, then at least liking a lot? Second of all, he felt that these seemingly newfound emotions ran deeper than just this year. They had silent, steady roots stemming back all the way to the day he'd met Draco, that day in the shop. These feelings had been laying dormant inside Harry's heart since that day, masked by superficial dislike and discomfort. And now, now … now things were becoming confusing.

"Harry?"

Harry's head snapped up to look at the speaker, Ron, who was standing with his bag shouldered, waiting for his best friend. "Come on."

"Whoa, is class over?" Harry scanned the room to see his classmates packing up and leaving, answering his question.

Ron laughed. "I know, it's hard not to daydream in this class. If it hadn't been for Neville knocking over that table, I would've been lost in my own fantasies until God-knows-when."

Neville had knocked over a table? Wow, Harry had definitely been out of it.

---

The week crawled by, the wind fiercely beating at the castle walls, knocking down unsuspecting students if they dared venture outside. The sky was heavy with threats of snowfall, and the air was crisp with winter. Friday evening came, and the Gryffindors found themselves huddled in the common room around Yuugi and Malik.

"Ready, Yuugi? You promised me a rematch," Malik said as he shuffled his deck.

"And I'll give you one." Yuugi smiled.

"No Pharaoh involved?"

"No Pharaoh involved," the smaller boy promised.

"Good." Malik smiled, adjusting his gold adornments and purple vest, free from his school robes and customary uniform. Yuugi, too, was back in his old attire, blue outfit, straps, buckles, chains and all. Ryou was more humbly dressed, in his oversized gray sweatshirt and snug blue jeans, curled in an armchair, overseeing the match played before him on the floor. Both the Ring and the Puzzle glinted in the firelight around their respective owner's necks.

"So this is Duel Monsters?" Ron wondered aloud as Yuugi and Malik took their shuffled decks and lay them down.

"Yup," Yuugi chirped, drawing his cards. Malik did the same.

"How do you play?" Neville asked.

"Oh, well … it's a bit complicated …" Malik answered dismissively, studying his hand. He frowned.

"Bad hand?" Yuugi said with a short laugh.

Malik huffed. "Don't think it'll stop me, though."

The game began.

Bakura and Atemu stood by the hearth, watching from a distance. The rapt attention of the other students amused them; they had never met anyone who hadn't heard of Duel Monsters, and here were thirty or forty people who hadn't even seen a Duel Monsters card in their life.

The minutes rolled by, and soon everyone had taken sides, either with Malik or with Yuugi. Yuugi's cheer squad rejoiced every time he sent Malik's monster to the Graveyard, or foiled one of his attempts to use a Magic or Trap Card. Malik's group did the same. Things got pretty exciting. Ryou just sat smiling at his boyfriend from his chair, watching calmly and contently.

That is, until Bakura came over to him.

Bakura could feel Ryou's genuine happiness and peace, and when he would peek through the mind-link, all of his thoughts would be on Malik. It was sickening, and not in the disgusting sense, but in the sense that it made Bakura's heart ache. Sliding his mask on, he slipped onto the armrest of the chair, his eyes glued to the duelists on the floor. He could sense Ryou stiffen, and smirked.

Without turning to look at his lighter half, Bakura said, "Ugh, is he losing _again_?"

Ryou frowned. "He's not _losing_, Koe. Remember, I told you that you can't tell in the middle of a game." No one seemed to notice that Ryou was talking to himself; they were all too engrossed in the match.

Bakura pulled a disgusted face as Malik made another move. "Oh Ra, tell him his technique is horrible."

"What?" Ryou was aghast at the notion. "No!"

"Fine." Bakura turned to the white-haired boy, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "Then I'll do it."

"Ko –" Ryou couldn't get the word out of his mouth before the Ring was glowing and he felt his senses dimming. His heart was pounding, a terrible leaden dread weighing down on his shoulders. Then he was inside the Ring, and Bakura was in his body. Ryou slipped out of the Item, and his phantom form materialized next to his yami.

"Koe, don't _do _this!" Ryou pleaded.

Bakura just grinned wickedly, standing from the chair, eyes trained on Malik.

"_Please_!" Ryou felt his eyes brim with unbidden tears, but he was so used to them that he hardly noticed.

Bakura barely heard his yadonushi, too consumed with an inexplicable feeling of power. He'd not felt Ryou so worked up for a long time, and quite frankly, he missed it. He missed feeling all of that emotion aimed towards him, whatever emotion it may be. It was passionate, albeit a passionate hatred and fear, but passionate nonetheless, and Bakura felt his flesh crawl with fever, involuntarily shuddering.

Before he could think twice, Bakura stepped forward, his shadow falling across the game. Yuugi and Malik looked up, immediately sensing the dark presence of the tomb robber. They scowled. The others simple looked bewildered and a bit frightened at the eerie smirk on 'Ryou's' face.

Bakura knelt down, leaning towards Malik. The Egyptian bristled, instinctively shying away, although he didn't go far enough, for Bakura still came nearly nose to nose with Malik as he said venomously, "Your technique is horrible."

Malik's jaw dropped as he prepared to retort, his eyes flashing with anger. But no words came out. He quickly shut his mouth, deciding instead to go for a physical rejoinder. He shoved Bakura, and the thief fell back with an indignant yelp.

As he quickly sat back up, Bakura could hear Atemu's amused laughter in the background. He scowled in the direction of the hearth before turning again on the blonde, dragging him up by his collar and throwing him into the nearby table. Malik crashed into it with a cry and collapsed violently to the floor. A sharp pain spread through the small of his back where it had connected with the wood, and pain also brewed in the back of his head, which had knocked against the tabletop as he'd fallen.

Ryou gasped, his tears falling freely, as he ran to the only one he could: Atemu. The Pharaoh started as the frightened and hurt spirit ran into his arms, but then embraced him warmly, stroking his head comfortingly. Bakura had taken it too far.

"You son of a bitch," Malik swore under his breath as he stood shakily, rubbing the back of his head.

"Go to hell," Bakura spat, again advancing on the blonde.

The other students were still, paralyzed by shock. Ryou and Malik's relationship was known by almost everyone in Gryffindor, and to see them fighting like this was beyond confusing and startling. Harry, Ron, and Hermione picked up on what was going on, and turned to Yuugi to see what he would do. The small boy, however, just watched the altercation unfold, unable to stop it.

As Bakura went to throw a punch at Malik's head, Malik ducked away and scurried over to where the students were, immediately bracing himself for the inevitable brawl. Bakura snarled and jumped towards the blonde.

"Yami, stop him!" Ryou pleaded.

Atemu nodded and stepped away from the hearth. He leapt in front of Bakura, and had Bakura not seen the Pharaoh, he would have run right through him. The thief stopped in his tracks, eyes flashing.

"What do you want?" he hissed.

"Stop this!" Atemu commanded, his voice automatically taking on its regal, condescending tone, which Bakura didn't appreciate one bit. Nevertheless, the Pharaoh continued. "Look at what you're doing! Look at Ryou!" he said quietly, but forcefully.

Bakura let out an agitated breath, but obeyed, turning his sights on the spirit cowering in the glow of the hearth, a glow which passed right through his phantom body without casting shadows anywhere indicating his presence.

The thief was sure he felt his heart stop beating.

Ryou was trembling from head to toe, tears cascading down his cheeks in crystal streaks of fear and pain. He had the most pitiful demeanor, like a puppy abused by its owner, wondering what in the world it had done to deserve such treatment. Hurt, frightened, and Bakura was sure there was anger and defiance, too, but it didn't matter.

Bakura's eyebrows knit into a pained frown as he struggled to hold back his own tears. What was with him lately, crying as much as he did? It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

"Fuck," he swore under his breath. He turned back to Malik, who stood watching Bakura curiously, as did the rest of the common room. "Watch yourself, tomb keeper, or you'll be meeting Anubis sooner than you think," Bakura threatened venomously, before melting back into the Ring. The Item glowed brightly, and Ryou felt himself being pulled back into his body.

Malik hurried over to his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around Ryou before the boy's knees gave way. Ryou gasped, drawing heavy breaths as he righted himself, gratefully accepting the warm embrace. Malik stroked Ryou's head, pressing the white-haired teen against him, and whispered in his ear, "Are you okay?"

Ryou nodded, although he still trembled.

"Oy! What the bloody hell is going on here?" Fred snapped, shaken by what he'd just seen. "You're all off your rockers!"

"Or maybe they're Dark wizards," someone else said. There were a few frightened murmurs of agreement throughout the room.

Malik and Ryou turned to the other students, all of whom were staring incredulously at them. Yuugi looked around as well, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione traded nervous glances.

"Way to go, Bakura!" Yuugi cried expaseratedly, seemingly at no one.

"Well, figure we may as well tell them," Harry muttered. Yuugi sighed resignedly, nodding.

"Everyone get comfortable!" Ron announced sarcastically. "This is a long story."

Meanwhile, in the Ring, Bakura was trashing about his mind chamber, beating angrily at anything he could find, which included a wooden chest of scrolls and some sort of altar set in the back of the room. The chest was currently overturned, its contents askew across the floor, some torn in half.

Finally, his energy spent, Bakura sat down in the middle of the chamber. He didn't know what to do; he was so lost. He didn't want to hurt Ryou, but at the same time he couldn't help it. Not only was it nearly habit at this point in time, but it held up his façade, and it was the only way he knew to stay emotionally tied to his hikari. If Ryou didn't hate him, didn't fear him, what would he feel for Bakura? Nothing, that's what, and Bakura wouldn't have that.

But this time, this time he hadn't consciously planned on causing Ryou any pain. He'd simply been drugged, drugged on his own jealousy and confusion and longing. If Atemu hadn't stopped him, he was almost certain he would've killed Malik. He couldn't take it. He was like a taut rubberband waiting to snap, which he almost did. He had never been in love, and now that he was, it was unrequited. What was worse was that he was around Ryou most of the time, sometimes in his mind, sometimes even in his body, and when he wasn't, he was still connected to the boy through their mind-link. Even when he closed it off, he could still feel that tiny pull, that tiny thread that held their souls together. It was eating him up from the inside out, this longing, this close, connected proximity, and yet this denial of his desires.

Maybe he would never be able to have Ryou, no matter how much he loved him, no matter how much he wanted to hold him and touch him and kiss him. Not only would Ryou never allow it, but it was physically impossible. The barriers just kept piling up, Bakura noted. It was the wrong time, the wrong place, and the wrong person. It could never be.

And with that, Bakura put his head in his hands and wept, making sure the mind-link was sufficiently closed.

Back in the common room, Yuugi was finishing up his explanation.

"And so … yeah …" he said uncertainly, and then awaited the reaction of the students.

Silence.

Thirty-some pairs of eyes stared at him, some darting to Ryou and Malik, others to Harry and Ron and Hermione, wondering whether or not to believe this seemingly implausible story. Finally, after what seemed to be endless moments of utter stillness, Fred again spoke up.

"So, you have these ancient Egyptian ghosts living inside your necklaces?" he said frankly.

"Well, they're spirits, and these aren't just … necklaces," Yuugi said, motioning towards his Puzzle. "They're sort of like magickal amulets, I guess. They were crafted by the pharaoh that lives in the Puzzle," Yuugi grinned with pride and some other unknown emotion, "and they locked away the secrets of the Shadow Games, saving Egypt from the evil of the Shadow Realm."

"Oh." Fred nodded.

"And a thief lives in Ryou's Ring?" Angelina wondered.

Ryou looked suddenly sheepish as he nodded.

"And he was the one that went berserk on Malik?"

Again Ryou nodded, bowing his head so that his bangs hid his eyes.

"Wow, well … this certainly clear up a lot," Neville inputted. "And you're the Pharaoh's tomb keeper, Malik?"

"Well," Malik answered, "my whole family was entrusted to guard the Pharaoh's – Yuugi's yami's – tomb. We've been doing it for many years, passing down the 'pharaoh's secret' from generation to generation until we could finally deliver it to him."

"Oh, what's the secret?" Ginny wondered excitedly.

Malik seemed taken aback. "Well … uh … it's … it's written in Egyptian … on my back," he explained vaguely.

"Can we see?" Ginny persisted.

"You won't be able to understand it –"

"Please?"

Others in the room murmured their agreement. Malik sighed and nodded grudgingly. He pulled his vest over his head, ignoring the soft, delighted squeals from the girls, and turned his back to Ginny, since she had been the one to ask. She gazed in awe at the cryptic inscriptions and hieroglyphs, even daring to reach out and run her fingertips across the sound surface of Malik's back, tracing the alien markings. He jumped immediately at the unexpected touch, and she recoiled her hand, apologizing.

"Well?" He turned to her. "You saw it."

"They're beautiful," she said. "How'd you get them?"

Malik winced, as if the memory had stung him. Ryou came to his side and put his arms around Malik's waist comfortingly. The blonde smiled softly and replied, "They were tattooed by my family – my father and a few others – … traditional style."

"'Traditional style'?" someone echoed. "You mean …"

Malik nodded, and more murmurs rang out in the room, this time awed and horrified.

Hoping to officially end the conversation, Malik slipped his shirt back on and bid everyone goodnight. To his friend, he added, "Well Yuugi, I think we need another rematch." He motioned to their unfinished game.

Yuugi laughed and nodded. "We'll finish a game sooner or later."

Malik nodded, laughing also, and collected his cards. He quickly pulled Ryou into a chaste kiss, at which a few girls giggled delightedly or sighed enviously, before departing to his House.

Yuugi picked up his cards, and peace seemed to settle back into the common room. Most students went off the bed, as it was eleven o'clock. By quarter after, only Harry, Ron, Hermione, Yuugi, Ryou, Fred, George, Ginny, Neville, Lee, and a few others remained.

George turned to his twin. "Hey Fred," he said loudly, "how about a game of _Wizard's Truth or Dare_?"

His double grinned. "Yes, sounds like fun."

Harry and Ron had perked up from their game of chess, and Hermione rolled her eyes as she sat doing her homework. Lee, Ginny, and Neville were also grinning, gathering around the twins. Harry and Ron did the same.

"What's 'Wizard's Truth or Dare'?" Ryou asked Hermione.

"It's the most idiotic game there is, where everyone weasels out their friends' darkest and sometimes most embarrassing secrets, or dares them to do moronic deeds, such as chugging a gallon of Butterbeer or spelling their faces to look like checker boards," Hermione explained in a condescending manner, going back to her essay.

"Want to play, Yuugi?" Ryou said to his friend.

Laughing, Yuugi nodded. "Sure."

By now, everyone was sitting in the middle of the common room either on one of the couches or in a big armchair. Fred was fingering something in his pocket. As Yuugi and Ryou joined the group, the redhead pulled out a vial filled with a thick, clear liquid.

"This," he said, "is Veritaserum, the truth inducing potion." He uncorked the vial. "Everyone has to drink some, and then the game begins." He downed a small drop and passed it to George before continuing. "Now, this Veritaserum is a little different from the normal sort, the sort the aurors use. This Veritaserum will also make you do whatever you're dared without hesitation, and you have no choice but to do it, just the same as it forces you to tell the truth. Funny thing is, sometimes people themselves don't even know the truth until this handy little potion brings it out of 'em. It's fun to see their faces after they blurt something they didn't even consciously know." He smiled roguishly. "It'll last for a little more than an hour before it wears off."

The vial passed from George to Neville to Ginny to Ryou to Yuugi to Harry to Ron to Lee and back to Fred, who pocketed the now-empty flask.

"Okay George, you first," Fred said. "Truth or dare."

"What do you think? Dare!" George answered heartily.

"All right. I dare you to …" Fred thought for a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "… to … sneak into the kitchens and bring us each back a piece of apple pie!"

Immediately, George jumped to his feet against his will, the air laced with an underlying energy. "You've got to be kidding me!" George cried aghast, although the grin on his face betrayed his excitement. "McGonagall patrols down that way. I'll be caught for sure!"

"All the more fun for us!" Fred laughed. "And hurry back. I have a vicious craving for apple pie!"

George slipped out of the portrait hole and into the dark corridors of the school, only his '_lumos_' spell and senses to guide him.

"Neville," Fred said. "You're next. Seeing so George was supposed to be the one to ask you, we'll just have to get back to you. Ask Ginny."

Neville visibly relaxed and turned to the redhead at his left. "Ginny, truth or dare."

The game proceeded for a few rounds, everyone getting a good laugh every now and then. George had returned a half-hour after his departure, eight slices of apple pie levitating behind him. Now it was quarter after midnight, and the game was beginning to wind down. Atemu and Bakura had slipped out a while ago, taking to strolling down the corridors towards the courtyard, a much-loved haunt of theirs. Both had blocked their mind-links, seeking privacy to talk about the usual: life and love and other such philosophies.

"All right Yuugi, truth or dare," Ginny asked.

Yuugi was still grinning from the last dare, which involved spelling Hermione's ink bright pink while she wasn't looking. Her entire essay had looked like a neon sign, but she had quickly fixed it before turning Lee's hair puke-green. Only she knew how to reverse it, and she refused to do so.

"Truth," Yuugi finally responded.

"Oh, daring, aren't we?" George joked.

"Okay Yuugi …" Ginny thought for a moment. Then, she said, "Who do you fancy?"

Yuugi started at the question, but before he could stop himself, "Yami" came forth from his lips. He quickly clamped his hands over his mouth, looking thoroughly startled. He didn't catch Ryou's small grin beside him. Everyone else just watched the tri-color-haired boy carefully.

After a moment of silence, Lee said, "You mean that spirit bloke who lives in your necklace?"

Yuugi rolled his amethyst eyes at the imprecise explanation and nodded, a fierce blush filling his cheeks. He gazed shyly down at his hands, thinking of how much of an understatement "fancy" was.

"Well Yuugi, it's your turn," Fred said. "Ask someone."

Yuugi looked up, grateful of the change of subject, and turned to the second youngest Weasley. "Truth or dare, Ron."

"Dare."

Yuugi grinned roguishly, and Ron suddenly felt uneasy. "I dare you to kiss Hermione … on the lips."

Hermione's head shot up, her face suddenly a bright pink. "What!" she cried.

"Yeah, what!" Ron added, although he was already being hauled to his feet by the magick of the Veritaserum and making his way towards the table where Hermione was sitting, studiously doing her homework.

She jumped up and backed into the wall beside the hearth, looking startled, and Ron looked equally horrified … although no one could mistake the look of delight underlying their shock. Yuugi covered his mouth to suppress a giggle as Ron pressed his lips against Hermione's, and in the glow of the fire they shared a chaste kiss.

It felt as if a balloon had popped then, a balloon full-to-bursting with tension and awkwardness, now deflated, all of the tension gone. _Finally_, everyone in the group thought.

Moments later, Ron returned to the circle, looking dazed, touching his lips gently with his hand as if the memory still lingered there. He looked over at Yuugi and smiled a smile that seemed to say "I owe you one". Hermione sat back down, her cheeks still flushed, and hunched back over her work, wearing an equally-satisfied smile.

"Ron, your turn," Yuugi reminded.

"Oh right." Ron looked around the circle. He turned to his right to where his best friend was sitting, grinning happily at what had just transpired, and said, "Harry, truth or dare."

Harry ran a hand through his mess of raven hair before answering, "Truth."

"All right mate, who do _you _fancy?"

Harry's mind automatically jumped to Cho, and he was entirely prepared for her name to come out of his mouth. But before he could say anything, Hermione had her wand drawn and was pointing at him, shouting, "_Silencio_!"

Harry promptly felt his voice fade away to silence, and he clapped his hand over his mouth in surprise just as he said the name. Although, as he felt himself mouth the name against his palm, his eyes widened in horror.

The name wasn't Cho. He was sure he'd mouthed Draco.

He looked to Hermione, who was pocketing her wand, and their eyes met. A sense of comprehension passed between them.

"What was that for, Hermione?" George asked irritably.

"Uh … I just … I think you should ask Harry a different question." She returned to her work without another word and gave off the impression of a brick wall; she wasn't saying any more.

At that moment, Atemu and Bakura fazed back into the common room. Atemu made his way over to Yuugi and stood behind him. The smaller boy looked up into Atemu's smiling face and grinned back. Then Atemu went to stand by Bakura around the hearth.

"They're still playing?" Bakura wondered.

"Apparently," Atemu replied.

"Harry, your turn," Fred said.

Harry nodded vaguely, his mind still spinning. "Uh, Ryou …"

… The air became suddenly lighter, relieved from the pressure of the truth inducing magick. The potion was wearing off …

No one seemed to notice.

"… truth or dare."

"Truth."

"Okay then." Harry chose his words carefully before continuing. "Do you love anyone, romantically speaking?"

Bakura's heart jumped as he watched Ryou.

Ryou's own heart was beating a mile a minute. He hadn't expected a question like _that_, but he knew that the potion would force him to answer truthfully. "Yes."

"Who?" Ginny blurted, although everyone already had a good idea of the answer.

"Uh … Malik," Ryou said, blushing slightly.

Bakura let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Even though he'd already known that, just hearing the words spoken from Ryou's mouth made everything seem all the more final … and all the more hopeless. It was like rubbing salt into an open wound, making it sting anew.

Would his torment ever end?

---

* * *

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Well? Review, please! -_huggles_- … oh, and lots of thanks to **poxmaker**, who inspired a few parts in this chapter. Dude, where are you? I haven't gotten an e-mail in, like, a month! -_poke_- … hello! Eh, anyway … **TBC**, as usual. Does anyone have any suggestions? I take comments, critiques, even flames, if anyone hates this fic that much.

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	11. One Step Too Far

**Of Wizards and Duelists …**

_XO'MagickMoon'OX_

**A/N: **Hey everybody! Fast update, huh, considering my new, hectic schedule? Although, yes, this chapter is a little short compared to the others, but I'm sure you're all happy about that. This is a breath chapter, one that leads into the first climax of the story. And … guess what? No more dialogue from the OotP! Everyone cheer: wa-hoo! Yeah, anyway … I just wanna acknowledge some people before we continue here:

**Jazhira **gets a cookie for being the first to review chapter 10! Hah, not only that, but her reviews are awesome! She writes some of the more thorough reviews I receive, and for that I am very thankful. **_-has a feedback fetish­­- _**haha, anyway … so thanks a lot! Ooh, and those who have not already, check out her stories! "Yugioh Gets Charmed" and "Hate" … among others … are awesome! I am telling you, tendershipping fans, she is AMAZING with Bakura! She has this uncanny ability to keep him incredibly IC … read "Hate" and you'll know what I mean.

And **Kitsuna Katt**, thanks for bringing to light the fact that I have not given translations for what little Japanese I have in my story. I'm sorry!

**Well, for those who don't know, let me explain:**

_Yadonushi _– this is what Bakura refers to Ryou as, and means "host" or "landlord".

_Koe _– this is what Ryou refers to Bakura as. It means "voice" … which would come, I assume, from the fact that Bakura speaks to Ryou through their mind-link, so Bakura's like this little voice in Ryou's head.

_Aibou _– this is what Atemu refers to Yuugi as, and means "partner".

And just for good measure:

_Yami _– dark

_Hikari _– light

Are we all good? Yae, now on with the chapter!

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* * *

---

As the group playing Wizard's Truth or Dare dissipated, heading up to their rooms, Harry hung back with Hermione. Once he was sure that everyone was gone, he said, "All right, out with it Hermione."

Hermione began sliding her books into her bag, having finished all of her homework due on Monday. "Out with what?" she asked, feigning naiveté.

"Why did you _silencio _me during the game?" Harry thought he knew the answer, but he wanted Hermione to admit it before he jumped to conclusions.

Hermione dropped her now-packed bag on the floor, meeting Harry's emerald gaze squarely. "Because I didn't think you'd want the answer to that question unveiled to those guys just yet," she said honestly.

"How …" Harry paused. "How … did you know what the answer was going to be?"

"Oh Harry, come _on_, this is _me _you're talking to. Did you think it was a total secret?"

"What? Did I think _what _was a total secret?" Harry prodded earnestly.

His friend seemed taken aback. "You mean … you don't know?"

Harry's fists clenched furiously. "Know what?" he hissed. He bit his lower lip, his gaze straying to the hearth, where the fire was beginning to die down. Quietly, he said, "Hermione, what's wrong with me?"

"Oh _Harry_ …" Hermione laid her hand over the raven-haired boy's trembling fists, which immediately ceased to tremble and relaxed, palms spreading flat over the tabletop. "There's nothing _wrong _with you. Why would you think that? Just because you fancy Malfoy –"

"There's nothing wrong with _that_?" Harry said incredulously, turning to look Hermione in the eye. "Hermione … he's my _enemy_! He's a coldhearted, cruel, arrogant prat. Remember, you punched his face in two years ago … he's the son of a Death Eater … a _Death Eater_!"

"But _he's _not a Death Eater –"

"No doubt he will be someday," Harry muttered bitterly.

"You don't know that."

Harry let out an exasperated sigh, dropping his head into his hands and raking his fingers through his hair. "You act as if the past five years of bitter resentment and rivalry mean nothing. Don't you remember what he's done to us? What we've done to him? Let's say that … I _did _maybe fancy him … just a little … how can that just happen … after all of that? After all of those years? It's not logical, it's not sensible!"

"It doesn't have to be. And though I still might hate Malfoy, I can't change how either of you feels –"

"How either of us feels?" Harry laughed. "You make it sound like he'd feel the same way about me."

Hermione shrugged, but couldn't hide her grin, even in the dying firelight.

Green orbs narrowed suspiciously, but Harry didn't say anything on the matter. Instead, he voiced his other concern. "Well, even if – IF – we could somehow … come to a truce of sorts, we're still both guys! And I'm not gay!"

Hermione clamped her hand tightly over her mouth to keep herself from bursting into laughter. Once she'd collected herself, she gasped, "You're not gay! After this whole little discussion we've had, how can you sit there and say that?" Hermione sat back, her expression suddenly melting into one of a more thoughtful manner. "And, why do you have to label it?"

"What?"

"Why do you have to label it? Love, that is. Love is love, Harry … it has no gender. Straight, bisexual, homosexual … it's all just an attraction between two people –"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa … hold it." Harry sat up. "'Love'?" he echoed. "Are you serious? Who said anything about love? All I said was that I _might _just _fancy _him _a little_." As the words tumbled out of his mouth, Harry groaned, dropping his head into his arms that were folded across the tabletop. "This is insane! We're enemies … we're both guys … _enemies_!" he began mumbling.

"Well, if you ask me, Malfoy is pretty hot."

Harry's head snapped up. "Please tell me you did _not _just say that."

"What? Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

"Well … I …" Harry stuttered, blushing.

Hermione grinned. "You are _so _crushing on him. It's not just a _little_ Harry. You flatout fancy the boy."

Harry frowned. "How do you know all this?"

"Woman's intuition," Hermione replied, standing.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, also standing.

"To _bed_, Harry. It's nearly two o' clock."

"Oh, right." As if the revelation made him weary, Harry yawned. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight. Sweet dreams." At that Hermione grinned impishly and went off to the stairwell leading to the girls' dorms.

Harry glared half-heartedly at her retreating form. What was she implying …?

Harry gathered up his things and made for the stairwell to the boys' dorms. _What a night_, he thought as he stifled another yawn.

Atemu and Bakura watched the boy go, both grinning broadly. This sounded _very _promising.

Maybe one of them wouldn't have to suffer, after all.

---

Ryou awoke the next morning to an empty room. Everyone else had no doubt went down to breakfast already; judging from the bright rays of sunlight, however dimmed by the winter clouds, streaking across his bed, it was late morning. He had overslept. Who wouldn't after staying up late playing Wizard's Truth or Dare? But he also vaguely recalled something plaguing his sleep, something rolling uneasily through his subconscious, something, some truth, waiting …

… to be released …

Ryou shook his head, running a hand through his mussed, white locks. He slipped out of bed and grabbed the book he'd been reading for the past few weeks off of his nightstand. In nothing but his gray flannel pajama bottoms and button-front pajama shirt, he left the room and started down the staircase. He caught a glimpse out the window on his way down and saw white, pristine flakes drifting lazily to the ground. Already everything was powdered with a thin layer of snow.

Finally making it to the common room where there was a warm fire burning in the hearth, he spotted Yuugi curled on one of the couches. Apparently he, too, was skipping breakfast, opting instead for the solitude of the empty common room.

"Good morning, Yuugi," Ryou said quietly as he came up behind the small boy, going to sit in one of the armchairs across from the couch his friend was on.

Yuugi looked up. "Hey, Ryou."

Ryou smiled, settling into the chair before opening his book, _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, by William Shakespeare. He was a sucker for classic literature, particularly ones about romance.

Yuugi tilted his head, squinting at the title. It still amazed him that he could now read English. However, the distance between the two of them at the moment prevented this. So, he asked, "What's that, Ryou?"

Ryou glanced up from his book. "This? Oh, it's Shakespeare. I've been meaning to read it for a while. I brought it with me, but until recently I didn't have much time to spare."

Yuugi nodded. "I know what you mean. So which play is that?"

"_A Midsummer Night's Dream_." Upon receiving an inquisitive look from Yuugi, Ryou added, "It's about four young lovers who get lost in the woods outside of Athens. Two of them, Lysander and Hermia, are eloping because Hermia's father wants her to marry Demetrius, and forbids her to marry anyone else. Demetrius claims to be in love with Hermia, and Helena is in love with Demetrius. Eventually, I think the faeries that live in the woods get involved with the four lovers and end up messing things up. It's supposed to be a comedy."

"Oh, sounds interesting. I heard Shakespeare's hard to understand, though."

"Not once you get used to reading it," Ryou said.

"I suppose that makes sense." Yuugi laid his head back down on a pillow and closed his eyes, leaving Ryou to read in peace.

"(Enter Helena.)

Hermia:

_Godspeed, fair Helena. Whither away?_

Helena:

_Call me "fair"? That "fair" again unsay._

_Demetrius loves your fair. O happy fair!_

_Your eyes are lodestars and your tongue's sweet air_

_More tunable than lark to shepherd's ear_

_When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear._

_Sickness is catching. O, were favor so!_

_Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go._

_My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye;_

_My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody._

_Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,_

_The rest I'd give to be to you translated._

_O, teach me how you look and with what art._

_You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart!_

Hermia:

_I frown upon him, yet he loves me still._

Helena:

_O, that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!_

Hermia:

_I give him curses, yet he gives me more love._

Helena:

_O, that my prayers could such affection move!_

Hermia:

_The more I hate, the more he follows me._

Helena:

_The more I love, the more he hateth me._

Hermia:

_His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine._

Helena:

_None but your beauty. Would that fault were mine!_

Hermia:

_Take comfort: he nor more shall see my face._

_Lysander and myself will fly this place._

_Before the time I did Lysander see_

_Seemed Athens as a paradise to me._

_O, then, what graces in my love do dwell_

_That he hath turned a heaven into hell!_

Lysander:

_Helen, to you our minds we will unfold._

_Tomorrow night when Phoebe doth behold_

_Her silver visage in that wat'ry glass,_

_Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass_

_(A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal),_

_Through Athens' gates have we devised to steal._

Hermia:

_And in the wood where often you and I_

_Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie,_

_Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet,_

_There my Lysander and myself shall meet,_

_And thence from Athens turn away our eyes_

_To see new friends and stranger companies._

_Farewell, sweet playfellow. Pray thou for us,_

_And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius. —_

_Keep word, Lysander. We must starve our sight_

_From lovers' food till morrow deep midnight._

Lysander:

_I will, my Hermia._

(Hermia exists.)

_Helena, adieu_

_As you do on him, Demetrius dote on you!_

(Lysander exists.)"

Ryou suddenly looked up from his book as a memory besieged his mind. "Yuugi?"

Eyelids opened to reveal amethyst slits, before opening all the way. "Mmm?"

"You like Yami?"

Yuugi started, sitting up. He made sure to promptly close his mind-link, and Ryou, thinking along the same lines, did the same.

"Uh … yeah," Yuugi replied, blushing.

Ryou smiled. "That's wonderful."

"Ryou?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't just _like _him, I think … I think I _love _him."

"Oh." Ryou stood from his chair and went to sit beside his friend on the couch, the cushions dipping with the added weight.

"I'm so stupid." Yuugi buried his face in his hands.

"Why are you stupid?" Ryou wondered, aghast.

"Because he doesn't feel the same way about me. I'm just his host, his friend … nothing more."

"Don't think like that. You don't know for sure … he might like you … or even love you –"

"Ugh … it's just so complicated. Even if we could be together … how would we … you know … kiss?"

Ryou bit his lip. "That would be a problem." He suddenly felt guilty for thanking God time and time again that that little barrier existed between yamis and hikaris. If it didn't, he could only imagine what evils Bakura would commit. And here was his friend, wishing with all his heart that he could somehow touch his yami, wishing that they weren't two souls in one body, but rather, two separate people.

He didn't know what else to say. What other comfort could he offer? No words, surely, would help his friend, so instead he just wrapped his arm around Yuugi's shoulders and hugged him. Yuugi gratefully leaned into it, bidding his tears away.

---

The weekend passed in a flurry of snow, and by Monday the grounds were blanketed in a good foot or two. Draco found himself strolling along the corridor around the courtyard early that morning after breakfast before classes. Lately he hadn't had any more dreams of Harry dying, however the memory was still vivid in his mind.

He ducked his head out of the corridor and looked out into the courtyard, soaking in the purity of the snow. He took a deep breath, the coldness of which stung his nose, and exhaled a silver vapor, watching it snake through the air up to the sky.

His heart leapt into his throat.

Something about the sky, the thick, pearly gray clouds, stirred a vague sense of dread in his mind. Why? The sky was no different than it had been that winter. Why did it seem so terrifyingly familiar?

He was pulled from his thoughts as he heard the students running along the previously-deserted halls towards their classes, reminding him of his own he needed to attend. He shifted back into the warm corridor and hurried down the hall.

As he went, a pair of pale, lifeless green eyes haunted his mind.

---

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik settled into History of Magick. Atemu and Bakura drifted to the back and stood, watching the students with vague interest. The six friends sat in a row near the back: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik from left to right, with Ryou contently resting his head on Malik's shoulder. Professor Binns fazed through the blackboard and, without so much as acknowledging his class, opened his book and began to speak.

"Today we're going to begin learning about how different cultures have affected magick throughout the ages. The Greeks, for example, were among the first identify many of the magickal creatures we know about today. The Chinese created many methods of divining the future, many of which are still used at present, and the Native Americans were very in-tune with Nature and the spirits. We'll be going over these ancient cultures, as well as many other Native tribes."

"Professor?"

Binns looked up lazily, his dull, phantom eyes resting on the speaker. "Yes, Mr. Ishtar?"

"Will we be going over ancient Egypt?"

The professor sighed and turned back to his book, flipping through the pages. "No, I don't believe so."

At this, Atemu and Bakura perked up.

"Why not?" Malik persisted.

"Well, I don't see them in my lesson book, which means that ancient Egypt didn't contribute much to the world of magick as we know it today."

"WHAT!" Atemu and Bakura shouted at the same time, though no one but their hosts heard their outbursts.

Without even asking, Bakura took over Ryou. Atemu, however, did ask and, upon receiving consent from his hikari, possessed Yuugi's body.

Bakura jumped to his feet. "That's bullshit!" he shouted at the teacher.

"Mr. Bakura, I will have to ask you to refrain from using such language in my classroom," Binns drawled, sounding as if he didn't really care but felt it his duty as a professor to say so.

"The ancient Egyptians contributed a lot to the world of magick!" Bakura continued in the same heated tone. "How _dare_ you say otherwise!"

Binns, still looking down at his book, idly flipped a page and said, "Care to explain yourself, Mr. Bakura?"

"Bakura, don't do anything stupid!" Malik urged as Bakura pushed out of Ryou's seat and marched to the front of the class. Atemu followed wordlessly, although he, too, was seething.

They stood on either side of Binns' podium. For once, the ghost looked up to acknowledge the two. "Please return to your seats," he said.

"Not until we've proven out point," Atemu replied. "The ancient Egyptians were the first to discover Shadow Magick and learn to conjure the monsters that lived in the Shadow Realm. Not only that, but we learned to control the monsters and use them to duel for power and glory. Some attempted to take over the world using Shadow Magick, and if it hadn't been for me locking away the secrets of Shadow Magick, then no one would be sitting here right now! And you say that _that's _not important?"

"What he said," Bakura added.

"Mr. Bakura, Mr. Mutou," Binns said wearily, as if speaking to two troublesome children, "I can assure you that there is nothing about that written anywhere in the records of the History of Magick. I must say that you two have very active imaginations. Mr. Mutou, not only do you claim to have saved the world from Dark forces, but both of you claim to be Egyptian, when I know that you came from Japan. Please go back to your seats, or I'm going to have to give both of you detention."

"'Active imaginations'?" Bakura echoed angrily. "You senile old bastard! If we were making it all up, would I be able to do this?"

The Ring began to glow. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Malik, as well as the spirits of Yuugi and Ryou, who were standing behind Atemu, started. Malik jumped up and ran to the front of the class as a dark mist began to fill the room.

"Bakura, you idiot!" he shouted.

But it was too late. Already a swirl of violet and ebony was swirling above the chalkboard, the atmosphere pulled taut with energy. The Ravenclaws looked scared out of their wits, while the Gryffindors, although frightened, had a better idea of what was going on. The Ring's glow cut through the dark fog, and Atemu's Puzzle had joined it. Purrs and growls and screeches sounded from the portal, as well as human-sounding shouts and giggles.

"Koe, please _stop_!" Ryou was tugging on his yami's sleeve, scared and trembling. Every experience he'd ever had with the Shadow Realm in the past had been terrifying, to say the least, and in the hands of Bakura, he knew just how out of hands things could get. Not only that, but the Pharaoh, the voice of reason, the level-headed one of the two yamis, was working _with _Bakura to open the Realm and prove his point. Yuugi was working just as hard on reasoning with his other half as Ryou was … and failing just as miserably.

The students were now on the edges of their seats, some preparing to run, some already halfway to the door. Others were sitting shakily, watching everything unfold with bated breath. Murmurs rang through the room, mingling with the eerie sounds wafting down from the portal.

That was when something fell forward out of the swirling abyss. The students screamed, although they really had nothing to fear from this being.

The Dark Magician.

He stood with his arms folded, landing gracefully on the ground, soon followed by his companion, the Dark Magician Girl. She cocked her blonde head and giggled, blowing kisses to some of the boys in the room. The students stared in awe at the two beings, Atemu grinning proudly at the monsters.

Then, there was a heavy beating of wings and a bird-like screech as a huge, black reptile swooped out of the void, going to circle the room. Everyone again screamed, and this time their screams didn't abate. This monster, the Red-Eyes Black Dragon, truly frightened them. It's eyes, glowing like embers, zeroed in on the young witches and wizards below it. It let out another screech before disappearing back inside the portal.

"What's going on!" someone in the crowd shouted, their voice ringing with terror.

"Stop it!" another pleaded.

"Koe!" Ryou tried again.

"Bakura, Pharaoh … please stop it!" Malik begged, gripping Atemu's shoulder.

Both yamis were in a sort of daze as they focused their power, watching with reverence as the Red-Eyes Black Dragon slipped back into the Shadow Realm, absorbing the energy and magick they had conjured. They were barely conscious of the pleas erupting around the room. But finally, as Malik reconnected the Pharaoh to his surroundings by grasping his shoulder, Atemu snapped out of his spell and looked around, the Puzzle's glow immediately dying. The violet haze lifted a little. He shook his head, tri-colored spikes shifting, and turned to Bakura. He hurried towards the tomb robber, gripping his arms and shaking him. The Ring's golden flare was extinguished, and the last of the mist disappeared, the portal closing, but not before the two Magicians quickly slipped back inside.

Everything was still.

Then, Malik turned to Atemu. "What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded, his voice ringing clearly throughout the silent classroom.

Atemu blinked. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. So he closed it and shook his head.

Malik glared at Bakura. "And what were _you _thinking? I can't believe you two!"

"Oh save it, tomb keeper," Bakura growled, folding his arms across his chest. "It's not like we were hurting anyone … just giving a little demonstration."

"'A little demonstration'? You're completely insane!"

"And _you're _completely insufferable!" Bakura rejoined.

"Bakura, he's right," Atemu chimed in. "What did we do?" He scanned the class, looking from terror-stricken face to terror-stricken face, all of whom were now staring down at the trio incredulously.

"Pfft, I don't know what you're talking about, but I was enjoying myself until I was so rudely interrupted."

"That's the difference between you and the Pharaoh, tomb robber: he has a conscience and a heart; he's not some cruel monster like you," Malik snarled.

Bakura smirked. "In case you'd forgotten, tomb keeper, not too long ago you yourself were trying to _kill _him!"

Malik paled. "That … That was different!"

Bakura's smirk widened. "Tell yourself that all you want, Malik, but deep down, you're just as much of a monster as me."

That was it. Malik jumped at the tomb robber in a fit of fury, tackling him to the ground. He pinned Bakura to the cold, stone floor by the shoulders, straddling the other's waist. His usually calm, violet eyes were bright with anger, his fangs bared as he glared down at Bakura, breathing heavily.

Bakura continued to smirk up at the young Egyptian. "Well," he said, "if you wanted to ravish me, all you had to do was say so."

Malik's eyes grew wide with surprise, and, before he could react, Bakura bucked his hips. Malik gasped in mixed surprise and pleasure and felt a blush rise in his cheeks as he was sent flying forward until he was lying flat on top of Bakura. A gasp resounded through the classroom as Bakura then proceeded to reach up and grab the back of his blonde head, pulling Malik's mouth down on his. Malik made to protest, struggling against the thief's grip as Bakura moved his lips against the young Egyptian's.

Ryou gasped and felt tears fall down his phantom cheeks as he watched Bakura pull Malik into a bruising kiss. Bakura had done some very low things before, but this, by far, had to have been the worst.

Heart racing with panic, Malik bit the tomb robber's lower lip – hard. Bakura yelped and released his captive. The Pharaoh rushed over to help Malik to his feet as Bakura stood, wiping the blood from his mouth.

Malik glared heatedly at the tomb robber, looking furious. "You bastard!" he spat.

"Fuck you," Bakura growled in return.

"Damn you to hell."

"No need; I've already got a spot reserved."

Professor Binns sighed audibly. "Boys, I'm afraid I'm going to have to give all three of you detention for disturbing my class and behaving most inappropriately." Again, Binns seemed to be simply acting upon his duty as a teacher, although even he'd admit that this was the most interesting class he'd ever had.

The bell rang then just as Ryou and Yuugi were transitioning back into their bodies. Ryou's eyes immediately flooded with tears. He turned on his heel and ran out the door without a single word, robes flaring around him as he fled.

"Ryou!" Malik called after him. He took off after his boyfriend, Yuugi following close behind.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione pushed past the crowd, and hurrying after the trio. This did not seem to be going in a very promising direction. As they passed through the doorway, they just glimpsed Yuugi disappearing down the corridor that lead to the courtyard. They caught up quickly, following Yuugi and Malik as they followed Ryou into the snow-blanketed yard. They pushed past a group of Slytherins who were standing in the same cool, sunlight-flooded hallway.

Ryou ran. He ran as fast as he could, as far as he dared to go, his breathing ragged and coming through his tear-constricted throat in painful gasps. But he didn't stop. He needed to escape, escape from Bakura. He knew that running was foolish, as there was no amount of distance that he could put between himself and his yami. Still, he ran. He darted through the courtyard, stumbling down the snow-covered stairs and getting back up again, not bothering the warm his frozen hands, wet with melted snow. His locks were matted with water, slowly chilling the scalp beneath, running down his face in icy rivulets, but still he didn't stop. His legs ached with the task of hurrying through the foot-or-so-deep snow, but it didn't slow him any.

Still, he ran.

He ran through the archway that led out to the grounds surrounding the school. He didn't know where he was going, but anywhere other than where he seemed to be at that second was fine, as wherever he was at that second, Bakura was, too. Needless to say, he didn't stop running, as no amount of distance he covered seemed sufficient enough to sate his need for comfort and security. He stumbled again, snow clinging to his frozen skin, matted locks, and damp robes. He was shivering, he was cold and wet, he couldn't breath and he ached all over. His legs didn't want to go any further, but his mind outweighed the need to stop. His vision was blurred, but he saw something not too far off. It was a tree … and then another tree … and more trees …

The Forbidden Forest.

Completely disregarding any warning delivered in the beginning of the year by their wise Headmaster, Ryou deemed that his destination. He needed shelter, and the peaceful darkness of the Forest seemed more welcoming then than it ever had. Was Ryou losing his mind? Maybe, but still, he ran. Straight into the Forest.

He was barely aware of the calls of his friends behind him, barely aware now of his frozen, aching limbs, his strained breathing. His heart still ached; surely he wasn't safe yet. The ever-present threat that was his yami still hung over him like a vulture, laying in wait for Ryou to drop dead. He couldn't, he _wouldn't_, stop. Not until he was safe.

Ryou wasn't thinking straight. He both accepted the fact that he would never be free of Bakura and the fact that he needed to get as far away from the tomb robber as he could, which ultimately led him nowhere but into danger. The Forbidden Forest. However welcoming it seemed to Ryou's disoriented mind, it was full of menace and darkness, and his friends knew this all too well, hence, they didn't cease their chase. They followed the boy right into the trees and mist, hoping to reach him before he strayed too far.

This, however, didn't happen. Ryou still ran. He ran deeper into the forest until his surroundings blended into each other. The trees looked the same, the snow-covered forest floor looked the same, the bare traces of sky above the canopy looked the same as every other bare trace of sky. He lost track of where he was. He wasn't conscious of much, in fact, except the dizzying of his mind and the unbearable aching of his legs. Once his mind could no longer convince his body to move, he stopped, and promptly passed out, falling into the snow with a soft "pmf".

---

"Hey!" Blaise shouted as Harry, Ron, and Hermione pushed passed him, knocking him into Draco.

Draco's gaze followed the trio as they darted through the courtyard, pursuing Malik and Yuugi who seemed to be pursuing Ryou. Where were they going? Draco ducked his head into the courtyard and squinted into the distance.

"Damn!" he hissed, bounding forward into the yard.

"Oy! Malfoy! Where the bloody hell are you going?" Blaise called after him. When Draco didn't respond, but rather, kept running, he sighed and took off after his blonde friend. Catching up with Draco, he asked again, "Where are you going?"

Draco kept his metallic gaze fixed straight ahead, but replied, "Potter! He and his … nutter friends are … heading towards the Forbidden Forest!" the blonde panted.

"And why exactly are we … following them?" Blaise wondered.

"Because … I promised myself … I'd protect him."

---

* * *

---

All right everyone, say it: FINALLY! I know I haven't incorporated much puzzleshipping thus far … and I think I added some sufficient puzzleshipping-ness. Yes? Well, I promise there'll be more towards the end … but I'm a sucker for angsty tornshipping-ness, in case it wasn't obvious. I just love the MalikxRyouxBakura triangle! Although, I know it's all probably getting old. Well? Still **TBC**. Remember people, I have a feedback fetish! Tell me what you thought, seriously! Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, what you thought could've been better or should've been different! I WELCOME critiques! I WANT critiques! Gimme, gimme, gimme! P-l-e-e-a-a-a-s-e-e!

Oh, and **Kitsuna Katt**, I want my cookie.

---

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	12. An Apology

**Of Wizards and Duelists …**

_XO'MagickMoon'OX_

**A/N: **Whoo, another quick update! I felt bad about leaving you with that cliffhanger, and the guilt drove me to hurry up with the next chapter! Please someone, if Bakura is disgustingly OOC, let me know! Much thanks, and cookies for all! Thanks for all of your reviews so far! Out of all of my stories, this seems to be the most popular, and of that I am very happy, as I feel that this story began to loose its edge in the middle, when everything became bromide and overused. Maybe I was wrong to think that?

Well, anyway, enjoy!

---

* * *

---

"Ryou!" Malik called. He looked around the dank, snow-blanketed forest. He was near to tears with worry, afraid of what might happen, or might _have _happened, to his boyfriend, who was nowhere to be seen. "Ry –"

Malik stopped as he spotted something dark in the snow, which he recognized as Ryou's robe. He neared the robe, and found that there was, in fact, a body _in _the robe – Ryou's body, but Malik hadn't noticed at a distance, as the boy blended so well with the white setting.

The Egyptian drew a sharp breath as he knelt quickly and gathered Ryou up in his arms. He was infinitely relieved to find his boyfriend still breathing, although apparently unconscious. Malik heard Yuugi's labored breathing come up behind him, and then naught but a few moments later, three others entered upon the scene as well, which he only assumed could be Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

But Malik didn't pay them any notice; all of his focus was on the fallen angel in his arms. "Ryou, you idiot!" he muttered. His jaw clenched as he fought back his tears, although crying didn't seem like such a bad idea at the moment, as the tears would warm his frozen face. Ryou, though, looked even colder than him. He was nearly soaked from head to toe, his hair matted against his head, tiny droplets of water clinging to his icy skin, which was tinged a bright, unhealthy pink. Other than the cherry-tipped nose and flushed cheeks, he was pale, and right then he really could have passed as the albino that most mistook him for, especially with his chocolate eyes closed, dark lashes fanned out against his cheeks. Malik ran his fingers across Ryou's face, shivering at how cold it was, like ice. He hugged Ryou closer to him, pressing the boy's face against his chest, where he could feel the rapid pulsation of his heart beating against Ryou's cheek.

"Malik," Yuugi said quietly.

Malik stood, shifting to hold Ryou so that his arms were beneath his knees and around his back. He turned to face his friends, all of whom were watching him warily.

Hermione gasped. "He's not …" She motioned towards Ryou with a trembling hand. "… Is he?"

Malik's violet eyes widened. "Oh, _Ra _no. He's not …"

"… dead," Ron provided, seeing that Malik was unable to finish the statement.

Hermione visibly relaxed. "Okay."

"Come on," Harry said. "We have to get back; there's no telling what we'll run into around here." He surveyed their surroundings, the dark-wooded trees that seemed immune to the typical autumn losing of leaves, as the canopy was thick, leaving scarcely any space for light. Luckily, however, the trees were generously spaced, so the canopy wasn't as thick as it could have been, and a little light _did _peek through, giving the Forest a dull atmosphere, however alive with strange, Dark energy. Because of this roofing, there was less snow covering the Forest floor, although not much less. Somehow winter had broken through and managed to paint the area with her usual white. And, Harry also noted, it was _freezing_. He was already shivering with cold, and reached into his bag and pulled out his hat, gloves, and scarf. Hermione and Ron did the same.

The others had left theirs in the classroom.

So, Harry donated his hat and scarf to Ryou. Malik made to protest, but Harry insisted, so the Egyptian gratefully accepted. After all, Ryou did seem to need warmth the most at the moment.

"Oy!"

The six looked around to find two of the last people they'd expect rushing towards them: Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini.

"What are _you _two doing here?" Ron wondered.

"We'd like to ask you the same," Blaise rejoined. "What's with you nutters, running off like that into the _Forbidden _Forest?"

"It's a long story, and we don't have time to tell it. We need to get out of here," Hermione said, stamping her feet in an attempt to warm them. She didn't bother to stop and contemplate on the question of why the two Slytherins had shown up. It was too cold to worry about that now.

"Brilliant idea, as usual, Granger," Draco cracked, somehow managing to make what would've been a compliment a jibe.

Hermione scowled at his sarcastic tone. "Let's just go."

"Uh … guys?" Yuugi piped up. "What way exactly did we come in?"

Harry pointed down at their tracks left in the snow. "That way."

Everyone nodded in agreement and started to follow their long path through the Forest. Hermione and Ron walked in the front of the group, Yuugi with Malik and Ryou in the middle, and then Harry, Draco, and Blaise wound up near the back of their group.

"Stay close to keep warm," Hermione suggested, edging closer to Ron.

Malik didn't need to be told twice. He hugged a still-unconscious Ryou tighter to his chest, and Yuugi huddled closer to his friends. The three of them also moved up closer to Hermione and Ron.

Harry looked to Draco and Blaise. Draco glared. "Go play Human-Heater with your Gryffindor groupies," he said.

Harry returned the glare. "Have it your way, git." He sidled up beside Yuugi, offering to put his arm around the boy's shoulder to help stay warm, an offer Yuugi gratefully accepted, seeing that he had neither hat nor scarf nor gloves and was shivering like mad.

Draco huffed.

"Lost your chance, mate," Blaise whispered.

"Like he'd ever do that for me, anyway," Draco whispered back.

"Aw, don't worry Draco, I'll hug you any day," Blaise teased, wrapping his arms tightly around the blonde.

"You idiot, get off of me!" Draco demanded, struggling in the slighter boy's sound grip.

"Nuh-uh, I'm cold," Blaise replied. At this, Draco seemed to calm down, admitting to himself that he, too, was freezing and grateful of his friend's warmth.

He then decided to pull out his own hat, scarf, and gloves, momentarily detaching himself from Blaise to do so. The brunette did the same. Before long, they were walking with their arms around each other, trying desperately to stay warm.

If anyone in Slytherin ever found out about this, Blaise and Draco would be so _dead_. Of course, granted they didn't freeze to death, first.

---

Bakura had lost track of time. He wasn't sure how long he'd been in his soul room; all he knew was that he'd wound up there after his little episode in History of Magick class. Immediately upon arriving, he'd been assailed with emotions, Ryou's emotions. An unbearable wave of panic had washed through the mind-link, which resulted in Bakura crouching down, sitting back on his heels, with his hands gripping the sides of his head, like someone trying disappear from their mind, to stop the voices inside it, gritting his teeth in pain. But no matter how hard he'd tried to close the mind-link, it wouldn't shut enough to keep Ryou from his head.

Panic, fear, contempt, pain, an inexplicable sense of paranoia and hopelessness, utter helplessness … it had all been too much for Bakura to take. He'd felt all of the feelings as if they were his own, and knowing that it was he who had caused each and every one was more than he could bear. The intensity had filled the chamber, nearly smothering the thief, causing him to choke on all of the pain, to momentarily grip his chest where his heart felt as if it were shattering into thousands of tiny fragments, reminding him of a precious gem he'd once dropped after robbing it from some tomb. He had watched it slip from his fingers as he'd darted through the maze of corridors, retracing his steps to find his way out, and had looked on as it had fallen to the stone floor, breaking off into several hundred shards of sparkling emerald. Oh how he'd lamented the loss of that priceless gem. Now he lamented his heartbroken state even more.

Then a draft had blown in from seemingly nowhere, and Bakura had been suddenly taken by a horrible sense of dread. The mind-link had gone dead, the utter stillness just as unnerving as the dial tone of a telephone. _Oh no_, had been Bakura's only thought at that moment. Ryou was in danger. What was worse, Ryou was in danger and it was all _his _fault. Bakura had taken it way too far this time. How could he have been so stupid? If he hadn't been so numb, he would've gotten up and started bashing his head into the wall. He'd seemed to have to urge to do that a lot lately.

Now he was sitting there in the middle of his soul room, clutching his head once again, fingers tightly fisting locks of snowy hair. _Ryou_, Bakura thought to himself, _I'm so sorry. I'm _so _sorry. _He felt something warm roll down his cheek, but was barely aware of it until he felt more of the same sort of warmth. He detached his hands from the sides of his head to reach down and feel his cheeks, which were wet with tears.

Why had he been so stupid? Why had he hurt Ryou like that? It was insanity, what he was doing to himself and to Ryou. Why had he lashed out so brazenly? It was like a never-ending cycle, a circuit of torture. He was in love, which scared him; he'd never been in love before. He covered his fear with anger, he held up a façade with malice, he stayed connected to the one he loved through hatred. However, he didn't want to see Ryou hurt, but it couldn't be helped. He used to love to see Ryou whimper and cry and cower before him, loved to feel dominant, loved to see … to see Ryou look at him with emotion. That had always been the real reason, no matter what other excuses he came up with. He'd never understood until Atemu had made it so sickeningly obvious. But it was too late to change, to even think of being able to transform their relationship from hate to love was ludicrous. And so it continued. And as it continued, Bakura's heart also continued to break.

Now he couldn't take it anymore. This was made painfully clear by the fact that Ryou was more hurt than he'd even been, and Bakura had been the one to hurt him. That was it; he'd stepped over the line; he'd snapped. He wanted to kill himself, but didn't if only because it would forever separate him from Ryou. And because of the fact that he was already dead, but more importantly the former.

The mind-link was still empty. Bakura stood from his crouching position, the pain brought from Ryou's onslaught of emotions just beginning to ebb. He closed his eyes and reached through their mental connection. Still nothing. What had happened? Where was his hikari? Perhaps he was … unconscious? Yes, that would be the only explanation for his inexplicably blank mind.

Bakura was filled with the sudden urge, the sudden _need _to help his yadonushi, knowing that it would never reconcile for the wrongs he had done Ryou, but at the same time hoping to ease Ryou's suffering, if but a little. So Bakura dissolved from his chamber and leapt into Ryou's body, immediately besieged with a bone-chilling coldness.

---

"Nnng …"

Malik looked down at the boy in his arms, ceasing his trek through the snow. "Ryou?" he wondered hopefully.

"Guess again," came Bakura's gruff, yet uncharacteristically gentle, reply.

Malik glared. The rest of the company had also halted, watching the two inquiringly.

"How dare you show your face here, after what you did to Ryou," Malik hissed. He was still holding Ryou's body, refusing to let it down, even if Bakura was currently inhabiting it.

Bakura shivered. "What happened?" he wondered with genuine concern and curiosity. "Where are we?"

"The Forbidden Forest," Yuugi replied. "Ryou took off after he got his body back and ran straight out onto the grounds. We followed him, but he wouldn't stop. Even after he was well into the Forest, he kept running until, I suppose, he just passed out."

Bakura continued to shiver, instinctively curling tighter into Malik's embrace for warmth. "Th-That idiot," he stuttered. "Wh-What the h-hell was h-he thinking?"

"He was thinking to get away from you," Malik snapped, still glaring heatedly at the thief.

As if spurred by the memory, Bakura's lip stung where Malik had bitten him. "Oh," was his laconic, guilt-ridden reply.

"So what are you doing here, Bakura?" Malik asked.

"I'm t-trying to h-help Ry … Ryou," Bakura said. "I s-sensed th-that he was … wasn't cons-conscious, so decided t-to take over and see wh-what was w-wrong."

"Trying to help him?" Malik echoed skeptically. "Why don't I believe you?"

"I-It's the tr-truth!" Bakura insisted, trying to look as earnest as was possible for one who'd spent a lifetime thieving. "H-He's going to … to freeze if … he doesn't move around and … stuff, r-right?"

Malik thought for a moment, finding a bit of logic to this and nodded grudgingly. "Right."

"Okay, s-so let me d-down and I'll s-see what I c-can d-do to h-help." Bakura was still shivering as Malik released the thief from his arms. Bakura immediately began stamping his feet and rubbing his hands together, then continued walking with the rest of the group as they began on their path again.

"So what's going on here?" Blaise asked after a moment of silence.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione returned with her own query.

"Why is Ryou suddenly … acting so strange?" Blaise elaborated.

The six others turned to one another. Though it seemed as if the whole school would know the foreign trio's story by now, they had forgotten that only Gryffindor had been told. So they explained, figuring they'd nothing better to do while trekking back towards the school and that the two Slytherins needed the details at this point.

Draco and Blaise gaped at the others.

"You're all completely insane," Blaise muttered.

"It's all the truth," Yuugi said.

"So that's what you were talking about before," Draco said to Bakura, who nodded upon remembering their discussion in the dungeon corridor the other day. "You really are … were … the Thief King from ancient Egypt. Now I get it."

Harry stared at Draco. He'd never heard the boy use this tone before; no one in their ring of friends had. This tone of curiosity and sincere interest, void of any sarcasm or malice. It was a nice change from the norm, the typical Malfoy attitude –

"What are you staring at, Potter?"

And then it was gone.

Harry sighed and averted his gaze from the blonde, turning to face towards the front again. "Nothing, Malfoy," he returned with as much spite as possible.

"Hmph," Draco sounded indignantly. Hermione stole a glance at the two over her shoulder before quickly turning again, hiding the grin on her face.

But her delight was quickly extinguished with a gasp. She stopped in her tracks, staring aghast down at the snow. Everyone stopped, too, looking to see what had horrified her so.

"What's up?" Yuugi wondered.

"Our … Our path is … gone!" she cried.

"What?" Malik peered around the bushy-haired girl and stifled his own gasp. They had been following their tracks through the snow back to the castle, but that would not be possible from here on out.

A group of some sort of hoofed creatures had trampled across their path, tossing the snow about and destroying the students' tracks with their own. As far as they could see, there were hoof marks, everywhere … and their trail was gone.

"Damn!" Bakura hissed.

"What are we going to do now?" Blaise wondered worriedly. Draco noticed that the slight boy was gripping his hand painfully tight.

"I ..." Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath. "I …don't know."

Draco gaped at the bushy-haired girl. "We're screwed. If _Granger _doesn't know what to do, then we're screwed."

Hermione flushed.

Malik said, "What if we … uh … what if we keep going the way we were and see if we can …find our trail again?"

Everyone nodded their tentative agreement.

"I guess there's nothing more we _can _do," Hermione said. She started off again, treading over the violently stirred snow. Then, she murmured, "It's just so strange."

"What?" Yuugi asked.

"Well," Hermione answered, "these hoof marks look like unicorn tracks … but unicorns don't travel in herds like this. … Unless –"

"Unless they're afraid," Harry finished darkly.

"But what would there be to scare them?" Ron wondered.

"Well, knowing what we know about this forest, I'd say it could be a number of things. Wolves, would be my best guess," Hermione said.

"'Wolves'?" Bakura echoed. "In the Forbidden Forest?"

"Yes, there are dangerous creatures of all sorts here, magickal and Muggle alike," Blaise said, having calmed down a bit, much to Draco's relief, as his hand was no longer caught in the boy's bone-crushing grip.

This did not sit well with the students. Could there be wolves nearby? Or had it been something much more sinister that had frightened the unicorns? Either way, things weren't looking too good for them, especially if Malik's plan didn't work, and they couldn't find their path again. They were freezing in their boots, and they were short three sets of hats, gloves, and scarves. Bakura, however grudgingly, returned Harry's hat, but the raven-haired boy insisted he at least keep the scarf. Hermione leant her gloves to Yuugi, who was wringing his hands desperately, and Ron leant his scarf to Malik. Now their gear was a little more evenly distributed. However, this didn't provide them with enough warmth for comfort.

"Aibou, are you okay?" Atemu asked the small boy. Atemu was gliding alongside Yuugi and the others. He had been present the entire time, but until now hadn't said a word.

Yuugi grinned through his chattering teeth. "I-I'll be fine, Y-Yami," he managed to mutter.

Atemu sighed, watching his host worriedly. He was most certainly _not _fine, that much he could tell. He wished he could help in some way, but it was nearly impossible. He couldn't keep the boy warm like, say, Harry or Malik could, however hard he wished he were able. He could just sit by and watch the boy's lips turn paler and paler with each passing moment, his shivering worsen, his attempts to keep warm become more desperate. His jaw clenched at the thought. He'd never felt so powerless before, and, quite frankly, it scared him. He was a pharaoh, one accustomed to being in control, and here he was, unable to help the person he cared about most.

Five minutes passed before the hoof tracks disappeared and the found themselves trekking through unmarred snow again. Their path was no where to be seen.

Malik groaned. "This is hopeless!" He scanned the Forest, not seeing any break in the lines of trees that would signify the edge of the wood.

"No, not hopeless," Hermione insisted. "Does anyone have any ideas?"

No one replied.

"I guess, then, we'll just have to keep going and hope we find our way out," Hermione said resignedly.

And so they did. Ten minutes later, Bakura felt a presence within the Ring.

… _Koe?_

Bakura's heart leapt at the sweet sound of his yadonushi's timid voice. _Yes?_

_What's happening? _he inquired groggily.

_You … passed out, Yadonushi._

_Oh … really? What's going on now? _Ryou materialized beside Bakura, holding his spectral head. Looking around, he added, _Where are we?_

_The Forbidden Forest._

Ryou then noticed his yami's apparent shivering. His brows knit into a guilty frown as he looked around and saw his friends in the same state. _This is all my fault._

Bakura stopped dead in his tracks then, and Blaise bumped into him

"What're you doing, mate?" Blaise asked irritably.

_Yadonushi, don't think like that_, Bakura told Ryou firmly, ignoring Blaise. _This is not your fault. _He turned to look at Ryou's spirit, which was staring blankly down at the snow.

"But it _is_ my fault," Ryou said, his voice inaudible to everyone but his yami.

"No, it's not!" Bakura contradicted heatedly. "It's _not _your fault!"

"But I dragged everyone here in the first place –"

"It's my fault –"

"– I was so stupid to just run off like –"

"Ryou!" Bakura shouted, turning completely to face the boy. "_Shut-up!_" He raised his hand as if to hit his hikari, but upon realizing that this would be not only stupid, but foolish, forced it back down to his side, fist clenched. Ryou had nonetheless winced at the action, although he knew Bakura couldn't physically touch him.

"Koe –"

"Stop, _just stop_, Ryou." Ryou looked about to protest again, but Bakura continued. "It's not your fault, _nothing _is your fault. It's _my _fault. I'm sorry! Ryou, I'm sorry!"

Ryou's eyes widened. Did Bakura …? Did he just … apologize? Before Ryou could process much else, Bakura was disappearing into the Ring, and Ryou was washed with a wave of ice as he was pushed back into his body. He stumbled forward blindly before Malik caught him with a start, pulling him into a warm embrace. Not a moment later, he had gripped Ryou's chin and was pressing his mouth against the other's. Quite a pleasant greeting, in Ryou's opinion, as he smiled into the kiss.

Fully aware of everyone's eyes on them, Malik pulled away and whispered, "Are you okay?"

Ryou, entirely unsure himself of his current state, shrugged. But his reassuring smile was enough for Malik not to prompt him further.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked. "Was Bakura shouting at _you_?"

Ryou blinked and nodded. Suddenly the full effect of what Bakura had said hit him, and his knees felt weak. He had … apologized. Bakura … Bakura had apologized. Not only was Ryou almost certain that the words "I'm sorry" had never crossed Bakura's mind, much less his lips, he was even more certain that if they ever had, they would never have been directed at him. Bakura _hated _him. Why would he care if Ryou felt guilty? Why would he care if Ryou felt hurt? Why would he care if Ryou felt _anything_? Since when had he took up the practice of taking Ryou's feelings into consideration? Ryou was confused.

But at that moment, there was no time for confusion.

Because, at that moment, the air began to thrum with deep-throated, menacing growls, and the teens were pinned with nearly twenty or so sharp, luminescent gazes. They gasped in unison, Hermione immediately clutching Ron's arm, as they looked around to find themselves surrounded.

Suddenly, the dread of freezing to death seemed insignificant in comparison to being torn apart by ravenous wolves.

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Mwahaha, I try to relieve you from the last cliffhanger only to throw another one your way! Sorry about that, but I wanted to post something quickly and I need time to think about what's going to happen next. I also had **ElementalCrisis **suggest shorter chapters, which I totally understand, so here ya go! Hope you liked it. I'll try to get the next one up soon, but as the new week will shortly begin again, bringing the ever-dreaded school with it, it might be … oh, say, at least five days before the next update. Gomen … thanks so much for sticking with my … less-than-satisfactory story. But seeing so you guys seem to like it, I'll keep going. Needless to say, **TBC**.

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	13. Out Of The Fire And Into The Frying Pan

**Of Wizards and Duelists …**

_XO'MagickMoon'OX_

**A/N:**

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**WAIT!**

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**MATTE!**

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**ESPERA!**

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**WARTEZEIT!**

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**ATTENTE!**

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**ATTESA!**

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Do I have your attention? Good, now if you don't read the following note I will never update ever again. –**is completely serious**- Listen up! People, yes, I know from personal experience that reading author's notes is a pain-in-the-ass, but please, please, PLEASE read mine! Though sometimes it's nothing but mindless ramblings, I do put important stuff in my notes! At the beginning _and _the end. In chapter 4, I explained why I thought Malik should go in Ravenclaw. In chapter 9, I explained why I spell magick with a 'k'. In chapter 11, I put a Japanese/English glossary for the words that I use! For those of you that _overlooked_ it, go back! AND READ THE NOTE! I also put in special acknowledgements, and I put disclaimers, explaining what stuff is my own and what stuff is J. K. Rowling's. Please, from now on, **READ MY AUTHOR'S NOTES! **

Good? Now, I'm sorry for leaving you all with that evil cliffhanger. And I'm sorry for taking so long (by my personal standards) to update.

And for **darkdranzer**, thank you kindly for your laconic, but critiquing, reviews. To answer some of your questions, yeah, I know that no one ever notices the Millennium Items glowing in the show, and they never really notice that the hosts seem to suddenly change, but I needed everyone to sorta notice for the story to move along. Same goes for the reason that the YGO cast is always speaking in English, when they could just speak in Japanese so no one would understand. I actually _did_ think about that when writing the chapters, but it would kind of spoil the tension between the characters if the HP cast didn't have those bits of cryptic conversation between the YGO cast. And I was also too lazy to keep specifying when they would change languages, so I just had them always speak English. So sue me. And yes, there is a 'k' in magick. If you read my note for chapter 9, it explains why. Thanks again!

**Kat1123**, please forgive me, but I don't put Yami Malik in my stories. In my mind, he's gone for good and that's all there is to it. I can never really picture myself writing him as Malik's lover, since A) he was a creation of Malik's feelings and never actually a real person in any life, B) he's really scary and creepy with a strange voice, and C) he was destroyed in the Battle City arc. I don't mind reading about him in other stories, but I just NEVER use him in my own. Please forgive me! But don't worry; if … _IF _… Malik ends up losing Ryou, he won't be alone for long. –**wink, wink**-

Of course, **Jazhira's **reviews are awesome as always (thanks so much!). Hey, when are _you _gonna update, huh? -**poke**- I'm dying for the next chapter of your Charmed crossover! And thanks a whole lot to **flamethrowerqueen **for being so supportive, too. –**glomps­**- Yes, I have self-esteem issues when it comes to my writing, as well as my artwork and my musical abilities … so your review meant a lot to me! -

And someone, I can't remember who (gomen!), was suggesting that Ryou use his Ring as a compass to find the way out of the Forest. If memory serves me right, the Ring does act as a compass, but not like that. It really only points out other Items, right? And the only Items within range would be the Puzzle and the Ring itself. So … yeah, dun think that's gonna be much help.

Phew, that was the longest note I've ever left. Everyone who read it and can prove it in their review gets a plushie of their choice, as well as a little acknowledgement in the next note! Even without all of this pathetic bribery, I hope you all read it! Please read them all from now on; I promise this is the longest one you'll ever see!

Since it's taken so long for me to update, let me remind you where we left off: _the group (Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ryou, Yuugi, Malik, Draco, and Blaise) are lost in the Forbidden Forest, suddenly surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves. _Enjoy!

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The students huddled together nervously, five of them warily drawing their wands, holding them out in front of them. The wolves growled hungrily, pushing the teens' hearts to race at a frighteningly fast pace.

"What do we do?" Ron whimpered softly.

"Just don't move," Harry said through gritted teeth. However, seconds later his own advice was ignored as a large, gray wolf lunged at him. He reflexively jabbed his wand and shouted, "_Stupefy_!" White sparks shot from the tip towards the beast, causing it to freeze in midair and fall numbly to the ground.

The other wolves moved in then, lunging almost in sync at the students. _Stupefy _charms were cast quickly, and eight wolves met the same defeat as the first. This, however, didn't slow the others, but rather, taught them to avoid the students' aim. The remaining beasts backed off, circling the teens with predatory growls. One lunged at Hermione as another lunged at Draco.

"_Stupefy_!" they yelled in unison.

The wolves dodged the spells, jerking forward again with more tact.

"_Tarantallegra_!" Malik's spell was cast upon the two creatures, each of his hands aimed at one, and their legs promptly flew from beneath them, sweeping them off-course in a violent fit that was supposed to be uncontrollable dancing.

Malik's spell was immediately followed up by Hermione's "_Impedimenta_!" which slowed the beasts' movement, and then Draco's "_Stupefy_!". Both wolves fell to the snow, stunned.

Meanwhile, Blaise and Ryou were warding off another couple of their canine opponents with _Impedimenta _and _Stupefy_, both spells working with great efficacy. Malik then held up his hands and shouted, "_Incendio_!" Flames sparked from the air in front of his palms, and the wolves shied away from the fire with frightened yelps. With this slight diversion, the teens ran.

The wolves quickly pursued, their speed greatly outmatching the students'.

In a flurry of snow, three or four of the beasts bounded forward with a giant leap. Two missed their targets, but one managed to pounce on Ron and the other on Ryou.

Before either wolf could act, however, Hermione shouted, "_Impedimenta_!" Both of their movements slowed drastically, and Harry followed with, "_Stupefy_!" to each creature. Ron and Ryou scrambled to their feet, pushing the frozen wolves from above them. They would've continued running, but the feral predators had once again encircled the teens, leaving them no room to escape.

"This is ridiculous!" Draco cried expaseratedly. "_Diffindo_!"

"Malf –" Hermione's gasp was cut short by a piercing, pained howl as the wolf before Draco's wand split in two, splattering the snow with scarlet.

The others quickly turned away from the messy sight, Yuugi covering his mouth as if to keep his stomach from heaving. Draco himself looked particularly sick, but nonetheless turned to another wolf, which quickly met the same fate as its brother.

"Malfoy, stop!" Yuugi pleaded.

"Look, it's either them or us, and I, for one, don't feel like dying at fifteen," Draco said definitely.

The ten or so beasts that remained bared their fangs, and simultaneously lunged forward.

Each student _Stupefied _their opponent. Harry, however, was matched with two. He stopped one, only to have the other come up right behind it. With no time to react magickally, he drew a sharp breath, screwing his eyes shut and bracing himself for the impact.

But it never came.

"_Diffindo_!"

With a heartwrenching yelp, the wolf was split down the middle in a display of blood and innards. Harry stumbled back and fell into the snow, splatters of scarlet flecking his cheeks, which had turned a sickly green color after glancing at the mess. All heads turned simultaneously to face none other than Draco, who was tucking his wand back into his robes.

"Malfoy, you idiot!" Ron shouted.

"What?" Draco said.

"That was dangerous," Hermione intervened before Ron had a chance to continue his tirade. "What if you'd missed and hit Harry?"

"I wasn't going to hit Potter," Draco replied, sounding offended. "But I will hit Weasel there if he doesn't stop glaring at – _agh_!"

The blonde's breath was knocked from his lungs as another wolf appeared out of the mists and pounced on him. He found himself pinned to the ground in a flurry of snow. Just as the creature began to sink its claws into its prey, fangs bared menacingly, it was hit with a _stupefy _jinx, promptly freezing. The caster immediately scrambled forward and pushed the immobile beast off of the blonde with one hand, stowing his wand away with the other. His emerald eyes glinted worriedly.

Draco lay there, chest heaving, as the others knelt around him.

"Always … gotta be the hero … don't you, Potter?" Draco snapped as best he could with the lack of oxygen in his lungs.

"All right then, next time you're about to be torn to pieces by a hungry wolf, I'll stand by and watch," Harry rejoined. "Are you okay?" he added more gently.

Faint surprise flickered through metallic eyes before a shield fell in front of them again, and Draco nodded, sitting up. "I'll be fine." He rubbed his chest, as if he had a pain in it, before rising to his feet. "Just a … scratch."

"This from a boy who nearly 'died' after being 'attacked' by a hippogriff in third year?" Harry wondered, quirking an eyebrow.

Draco glared at him, but said nothing. Instead, he rubbed his chest again, this time drawing a sharp breath.

"What is it?" Blaise asked.

"Ah … uh … I don't know," Draco replied. He leaned against a nearby tree and threw his robe open, pulling his shirts up to his chest. There were two inflamed spots below his collarbones, four small punctures making up the center of each. They weren't bleeding much, but some, and from the look on Draco's face, they hurt … a lot, standing out against his ivory skin.

Hermione sighed. "Here." She drew her wand and pointed it at the blonde. "_Ferula_!" A puff of blue smoke billowed from the tip and wound around Draco's chest. Once it had cleared, there were pristine, gauzy bandages wrapped across the small wounds.

"Thanks a lot, Granger, but the blood wasn't a problem. How 'bout a pain-relieving spell?" Draco said crossly.

"I … don't know any," Hermione admitted, blushing. "But the bandages are better than nothing."

Draco huffed, tugging his two layers of clothing back down, then pulling his robe back around his torso. "Whatever."

"You know, a little gratitude wouldn't kill you," Ron said.

"I don't give gratitude to dirty mudbloods," Draco jibed.

"Bastard," Ron muttered.

"Do you think the wolves are gone?" Yuugi wondered.

"They appear to be," Malik replied.

Yuugi visibly relaxed. "That was close."

"Oh, but they did damage enough," Harry said bitterly. "Now we're _completely _lost, after running from those buggers."

Several curses echoed through the group before silence settled upon them. After several moments, Hermione spoke up.

"Well, I think we should set up a fire."

"Out here?" Ryou said. "It's too wet."

Hermione looked up through the trees. "I'm sure there's some dry wood around here somewhere. We could split up to look for it." The others looked uncertain. "Look, we have to do something, other than freeze our arses off."

Everyone else hesitantly agreed on this.

"Okay," Hermione said, taking charge, "Ron, Zabini, and I will check around here. Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik go that way," she motioned to the left, "and Harry and Malfoy go the other way."

"What!" Harry cried. "I'm not going with Malfoy!"

Blaise inputted, "I think it's a wonderful idea."

Draco glared at the brunette and mouthed, "Traitor". Blaise just grinned.

"Harry, you're going with Malfoy," Hermione said definitely.

"Hermione, you're off your rocker," Ron muttered, but was silenced with a sharp glance from the bushy-haired girl.

"Everyone, meet back here if you find anything and we'll start the fire," Hermione added. "All right? And don't go too far. If you can't find anything within ten minutes of walking, then just come back this way and we'll work something else out."

"Hermione, I'm not going with Malfoy," Harry protested.

She sidled up beside the raven-haired boy and whispered, "Yes, you are." She had a disconcerting glint in her eye that pushed Harry into agreement. He swallowed, nodding silently, and turning to the blonde.

"Let's go," he growled, taking off in the direction that Hermione had instructed.

Malik, Yuugi, and Ryou left in the other direction, and Hermione, Ron, and Blaise began searching around their site. Before designated area was out of sight, Harry and Draco heard Hermione's _incendio _spell, and an orange light leapt to life behind them. Draco wanted desperately to turn around towards the fire, but Harry gripped his arm and forced him onward.

"Let's look for a few minutes, and then we can go thaw out," the Gryffindor said.

Draco huffed, but tacitly agreed, continuing through the mist behind the other.

They walked a pace or two in silence before Harry muttered, "I can't believe I'm stuck out here with you."

"Hey," Draco said, "it was your nutter friend who took off into the Forest."

"And you're the one who followed," Harry reminded bitterly. "You didn't _have _to come out here."

_Ha_, the blonde thought, _if only you knew_. Aloud, he said, "So what was the albino running from anyway?"

"Firstly, Ryou's _not _an albino," Harry answered. Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "Secondly, he was a little … upset … because of something Bakura did in History of Magick."

"You mean that ancient Egyptian bloke?" Draco wondered. Harry nodded. "What did he do?"

"Well, it's … complicated."

Draco scanned their surroundings. "We've got time."

Harry was silent for a moment. "This is very odd."

"What?"

"Being out here, with you, _actually_ having a _civilized_ conversation," Harry said.

"Yeah, that reminds me: not one word of this back at school, or detention with McGonagall will seem like afternoon tea compared to what I'll do to you," Draco warned, scowling.

"Right. Well," the other began, "you know about Malik and Ryou, right?"

Draco frowned bemusedly, shaking his head.

"Oh … uh … well, they're sort of … a couple," Harry explained a bit awkwardly. Draco's eyebrows raised, but he said nothing. "Anyway," Harry pushed on, "Binns announced that we'd be starting learning about the ancient people's influence on magick today. When Malik asked if we'd be going over ancient Egypt and Binns said no, because they 'apparently didn't contribute much to modern-day magick', Atemu and Bakura basically exploded with anger, possessed Yuugi and Ryou, and stormed to the front of the class. They began ranting about how the ancient Egyptians contributed loads to modern-day magick, and when Binns didn't seem to show much care or interest, they opened this portal to the Shadow Realm –"

"'Shadow Realm'?"

"Yeah, you remember when 'Yuugi' was about to toss you into the 'Dark portal'? That was the Shadow Realm. So everyone got real scared, and Atemu and Bakura got sort of carried away, until Malik stopped them. Then Malik and Bakura got into an argument. Malik told Bakura he was heartless, Bakura told Malik he was just as much of a monster as him, and then Malik jumped on Bakura. It ended up with Bakura basically pulling Malik down on him and kissing him. Then Bakura jumped – I think Malik bit him – and the class was dismissed as Ryou and Yuugi got their bodies back. Binns gave them both detentions. Then Ryou just … ran. He ran outside, down through the courtyard, and into the Forest. And that's where you came in, I assume."

Draco was silent for a moment. The two were still walking, though neither was really scouring the grounds for firewood as they should have been. Then, the blonde said, "I get it."

"Get what?"

"What Bakura was talking about before."

"When?"

"Remember when he pushed me into you after class?"

Harry nodded, suddenly feeling heat rise in his cheeks at the memory, although his wind-bitten complexion hid the blush.

"And remember how he dragged me down the hall afterwards?"

Again, Harry nodded.

"Well, he started yelling at me, telling me I was stupid because –" Draco caught himself. This atmosphere was entirely too comfortable; he'd almost spouted his deepest, darkest secret to the worst possible person!

"Because …?" Harry prompted.

"Because … uh … I … well, you see … we both sort of have the same problem. And Bakura thinks that I could solve mine if I really tried while he's doomed to suffer. Now, after all that you've just told me, I think that Bakura may fancy Ryou."

Harry froze. "What? That's crazy! Bakura _hates _Ryou, and vice versa. Bakura's so cruel to Ryou, always hurting him, from what I've seen and heard. I can't imagine someone so cold actually having feelings like _that_." This reminder suddenly saddened the Gryffindor as he thought of his own situation, glancing at the blonde, who seemed all of a sudden indignant.

The conversation ended abruptly, however, as Draco gasped, falling forward. Something on the ground let out a pitiful, pained noise as the Slytherin got to his feet again and turned to find …

… a baby unicorn.

It the same pristine white as the snow, except for its hooves, which were black as coals, as were its shining eyes. A stump of a glimmering horn was poking through the silvery mane matted against its forehead. Its seemingly fragile legs where tucked beneath it, and its warm breath was puffing from its nostrils in white clouds. It let out another pitiful moan.

Harry was now at Draco's side. "Are you okay?" he asked.

The blonde nodded. "Stupid pony."

"It's not a pony –"

"I know it's not a pony!"

"What do you reckon it's doing out here all alone?" Harry asked, watching the foal from a safe distance.

"I don't know, but I think we should leave," Draco replied.

"What if it's hurt?"

"Well, that's tough for it."

"Malfoy," Harry said reprovingly.

"Fine, fine, we'll check on it." Draco rolled his metallic eyes and knelt down beside the foal. Harry did the same. "It seems okay to me, just a little tired," Draco decided after a moment.

"Yeah, I guess. Wish Hagrid were here, though. It's strange to see a baby without the moth –"

A shrill whinny suddenly sounded behind them. The boys turned slowly to find themselves in the shadow of a full-grown unicorn. Long, shimmering mane, sharp, silver horn protruding from its forehead, obsidian eyes glinting dangerously. It reared up on its hind legs, kicking out with its powerful hooves. Harry and Draco stumbled backwards, only to land on the foal, issuing another pained groan from the beast, which resulted in another enraged whinny from the mother.

The two jumped up as quickly as their tired, frozen bodies would allow and ran. They could hear the unicorn follow them, hooves pounding across the snow-blanketed ground. They veered to the left, and then right, zigzagging around the trees, until they became so short of breath that it was painful to breathe. Then, Draco ran into a wide tree, falling back on his ass with a panicked cry. The unicorn stopped in front of him as the blonde scrambled to his feet, pressing his back against the sound trunk. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins, his body telling him to move, to run, but his paralyzing fear holding him in place as the beast lowered its massive head, lethal horn aimed at its prey's chest. Draco instinctively drew his wand as the unicorn charged, and shouted, "_Protego_!"

White sparks spouted from the tip just as Draco felt something fly into his side, hurling him to the right, out of harm's way. He heard a cry of pain, and his heart thudded nervously as he lay motionless in the snow, exhausted and breathing heavily. Stars were erupting behind his closed lids, and he was barely aware of the sounds of the unicorn galloping away. Eventually, everything was still, Draco's own ragged breathing and someone else's pained gasps filling the air. Finally, Draco pulled himself up, shaking the stars from his vision and looking around.

"Fuck, _Potter_!" he gasped. He crawled shamelessly on his hands and knees over to the tree, where Harry lay in a trembling heap, glasses tossed to the snow some feet away from him.

Draco grabbed the boy's shoulder and heard him gasp in pain. The blonde quickly recoiled his hand. "Potter … are you … okay?" he asked weakly, afraid of the answer.

Harry sat up finally, clutching his side and leaning back against the tree. His eyes were screwed tightly together, betraying his pain just as much as his clenched jaw and worrisome trembling did. His breath was strained, as if it hurt just to breathe, which wouldn't surprise Draco in the least. Draco found his own breath frozen in his lungs, his heart beating dreadfully fast with panic. His mouth was a thin line as he waited for Harry to do something … _anything _to let Draco know what had happened, what was wrong, and what he could do to help.

Finally, after what seemed to be painfully endless moments, Harry opened his eyes, taking as deep a breath he could. He smiled faintly, eyes finding Draco's face. "… Idiot." His tone was light, but his voice was dark and raspy with anguish. "You really … have to … p-pay more attention … in class. … Didn't you know that … unicorns are impervious … to magick?"

Draco felt his eyes beginning to sting, and was suddenly grateful that Harry didn't have his glasses on. The last thing he wanted was for the boy to see his own fear. "Yeah," he replied, "I knew that. I just … I panicked."

The faint smile still present on his lips, Harry said, "… So did I."

Draco held back a choked sob, before saying, "Potter, what happened?"

Harry tried to sit up, and Draco aided him with a hand behind his back. Harry pulled his hands away from his side, and the blonde nearly broke down just then to see that they were coated in blood.

"No," he whispered, voice heavy with unshed tears. "Potter … oh _fuck_." He licked his dry lips, throat tight, as his tears finally fell. He realized with startling clarity where he had seen this all before: his nightmare. "No way in Hell am I going to let you die," he muttered. "I promised …"

"What are you … going on about?" Harry said, his voice beginning to fade.

"Nothing. Come on." Draco quickly grabbed Harry's glasses and placed them on the boy's face.

Harry blinked. "Malfoy … are you … crying?"

"No. There's just snow on your glasses," Draco snapped. Harry didn't look so convinced. Before the raven-haired boy could utter another word, Draco was wrapping his arm around the Gryffindor's back and grabbing beneath his knees. With a shocking display of strength, Draco picked Harry up out of the snow.

Harry all but squeaked with surprise, before saying softly, "Malfoy … you don't honestly … think that you … can … carry me … all the way back?"

"The hell I can't. Ever heard of adrenaline, Potter? Works wonders, really."

"Wow, I never … knew you cared," Harry whispered jokingly before giving in and curling tighter against the blonde.

Draco glanced wistfully down at the beauty in his arms before carrying onward. He had to find his way back before it was – _God forbid_ – too late.

Harry felt his senses dimming. He was only conscious of the warmth around him, and decided that it was worth being in so much pain if it could get him this close to Draco. He blinked, going over that thought once more, before closing his eyes completely, snuggling closer to the warmth of his hero.

Doubts diminished, his last thought before finally passing out was, _I love you, Draco_.

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Well aren't I the biggest bitch you've ever seen? Surprise, another cliffie! Sooo sorry, but I'm trying to keep my updates quick _and _I'm trying to make the chapters a little shorter, which is easier without all of the emotional angst I spent a painfully long time describing in previous chapters, which probably bored everyone to tears. In the next chapter, we'll be checking up on Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik and welcoming back Atemu and Bakura, who were absent for this chapter.

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Atemu: -**glare**s-

Bakura: -**glares harder**-

MagickMoon: -**cowers**- ... G-Gomen!

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Needless to say, **TBC**!

Oh, and guess what? It's my birthday on Wednesday! w00t! 15 at last! Until next time!

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	14. A Broken Mask

**Of Wizards and Duelists …**

_XO'MagickMoon'OX_

**A/N: **Oooooh my God, I am sooooo sorry, guys! I haven't updated this story in sooo long, and after leaving you with that cliffhanger! -**sob**- Well, hopefully this chapter will make up for it. Something _really _good happens!

You guys are just too awesome for words. I'm glad you're all enjoying the story. I've just had a serious lack of motivation lately, doubled with very evil writer's block … but now I'm back on track! And thank you to **CloudKat **and **Phantom Fox **for wishing me a happy birthday! And **Phantom Fox **gets a plushie … erm, how about two? Bakura and Yami! Yae for plushies!

And on that note, I apologize for my seriously bitchy A/N in the last chapter. I don't know what came over me! -**sheepish laughter**- Hehe … eh … anyway …

And ­–**gasps**- guys I realized something that really screws up my plot! I realized it after watching the newer episodes of YGO, but since the A/N is getting kinda long, I'll explain in the next one.

Now, read and enjoy!

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Atemu and Bakura watched their hosts trekking through the snow, scouring the ground for firewood. Yuugi and Ryou were pale, save for their cherry-tipped noses and wind-bitten cheeks. They were shivering uncontrollably. They looked miserable. It sent pangs through the spirits' hearts (figuratively speaking) to see the boys suffering, Bakura doubly so, since it was ultimately his fault that any of them were out there in the first place.

"Yadonushi, let me take over," Bakura said.

Ryou shook his head, sniffling.

"Please!"

Another negative.

"Ryou!"

No response. The white-haired teen seemed to be trying to ignore the nagging thief.

Meanwhile, Atemu was also trying to reason with Yuugi.

"Aibou, come on, let me have control. You can sit in the Puzzle and rest."

Yuugi smiled appreciatively. "But then you'll be cold."

Atemu sighed exasperatedly. "Please Yuugi, I _want _to help."

"No, it's—" sniffle "—all right."

Atemu and Bakura hung back as Ryou, Malik, and Yuugi continued on a few paces, Malik with his arms around his boyfriend. He hadn't inquired as to why Yuugi and Ryou were seemingly talking to the trees, as he knew that they weren't.

"What do we _do?_" Bakura groaned.

"I don't know. We could just take control without their consent," Atemu offered.

Bakura studied the king. "I think we're spending too much time together."

"Why's that?"

"'Cause that's something I would think of." Bakura grinned deviously and suddenly disappeared. Somewhere up ahead, a golden light cut through the gloom of the Forest. Atemu chuckled and, not more than a second later, he had disappeared, too.

"Holy shit!" Bakura rubbed his hands together frantically. "It's fucking cold!"

Malik jumped a foot away from 'his boyfriend' and blinked. "… Bakura?"

"Yeah?" Bakura automatically glared at the blonde Egyptian.

Malik peered around Bakura to 'Yuugi'. "Pharaoh?"

The tri-color-haired Egyptian nodded.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"Just shut-up and get over here," Bakura demanded. "Unless you want Ryou's body to freeze."

"I'm not hugging you." Malik made a disgusted face, remembering their earlier episode in History of Magick class.

"I don't bite," Bakura snapped. Then, as an afterthought, "Unless provoked." He sighed. "Please, Malik … we're all going to freeze if we don't huddle together."

Atemu laughed. "I think we _have _been spending too much time together, because you're beginning to think sensibly, Bakura."

Bakura cut a glare at Atemu, but grabbed his shoulder anyway and pulled the pharaoh against him. Then he gripped Malik's shoulder and forced the other Egyptian to do the same. Malik grudgingly wrapped his arm around Bakura, and Atemu followed suit, so that they were all huddled tightly together, trying to salvage as much warmth as possible.

They were silent for a few minutes until Malik said, "Oh, there's some wood." He broke away from the other two and stooped to pick a portion of a fallen branch up out of the snow.

After walking a little more and finding an armful of fuel for the fire—damp as the wood was—they decided to head back. They followed the orange glow that the others had started up and were soon back at the designated site.

"Oh good, you found some," Hermione said as she saw the three step from the surrounding shadows. Malik handed the wood to Hermione and she threw it into a nearby pile.

The boys sat around the small fire and began to warm up.

_Koe, let me have control again_, came Ryou's voice from the back of Bakura's mind.

_No, you need to rest._

_I'm rested. Let me have control again._

Bakura was taken aback at his host's sharp tone. He relented and slipped back into the Ring before phasing through the veil and appearing in spectral form at Ryou's side. He looked over at Atemu and saw that the pharaoh had also given Yuugi his body back.

Everything was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire. Using _incendio _spells, the students had cleared the snow around the fire in order to sit down without getting soaked through.

Suddenly, something stumbled into the site, and it only took a second for the others to recognize the 'something' as Draco and Harry.

"Help," Draco panted, laying Harry down in the snow. He was flushed and out of breath.

Everyone was speechless as they took a moment to register the sight before them. Harry was apparently unconscious, and Draco had been carrying him. Something was very, very wrong.

Ron jumped to his feet as Hermione rushed to Harry's side. "What did you do, Malfoy!" he shouted.

Malfoy glared furiously at the redhead, his eyes glittering in the firelight. "What did _I _do? Why the hell do you assume that _I _did something, Weasel!"

"What happened?" Hermione interrupted.

Blaise was beside Hermione, inspecting the unconscious raven-haired boy.

"We were attacked," Draco explained hurriedly, "by a unicorn." He knelt down and pushed Harry's robe aside, carefully rolling up the hem of his shirts to reveal the wound. Hermione gasped. Ron, Ryou, Yuugi, and Malik came up behind the others.

"Bloody hell," Blaise murmured.

"Okay, um …" Hermione began to try to think of what to do, but her panicked mind wasn't functioning properly. She took a deep breath, and said, "We need to stop the bleeding." She pointed her wand at Harry's side and said, "_Ferula!_" Immediately, a roll of bandages appeared and began winding around the wound. The gauze immediately was stained red as layer after layer was wrapped, each layer saturating with blood.

"It's not doing any good," Malik said. "Stop it."

Hermione ended the spell and wished the dirtied bandages away. "Then what do you suggest?"

"You need to cover it with something before you start wrapping it up, something that can absorb the blood," Malik answered calmly.

"But we don't have anything!" Hermione said. "At least, nothing sterile. If we just throw some random article of clothing over it, it could become infected!" She raked her fingers nervously through her hair.

"Dammit!" Ron kicked at a nearby tree angrily and continued swearing under his breath.

"Can you cast the _ferula _spell without the bandages wrapping around the wound?" Malik asked.

"You mean just conjure the bandages?" Hermione bit her lip nervously. "Maybe if I …" She pointed her wand at her own hand and cast the spell on it. Immediately the bandages appeared in a puff of blue smoke and began winding around her fingers. She cast it a few times, and by the time she'd finished, she had a decent amount of gauze. Malik began unwrapping the bandages and folded them up, placing it over the wound. The blood soaked through the square of gauze, so Malik took another strip and did the same, putting it over the first patch. Only a spot of blood appeared on the surface. Malik took the last strip of gauze and folded it up as well and placed it on top of the first two squares. This time, no blood seeped through. Hermione cast _ferula _on the wound once more, and this time the bandages wound around the folded-up gauze, holding it securely over the wound to absorb the blood.

"That should hold for a little while," Malik said.

The group seemed to release the breath they'd been unconsciously holding simultaneously.

"But if we don't get out of here soon, I don't know what we'll do," Malik added. "He needs professional help."

Ron ran his hand over his face. Then, he shouted at the top of his lungs, "DAMMIT!"

And suddenly, two lights cut through the darkness of the Forest. A horn blared, and an engine rumbled, and then a formidable shape rolled into the area.

The students froze, gaping at the intruder.

Ron shook his head incredulously. "No. Way."

Hermione started laughing delightedly, and the others soon found themselves joining in. Ron stepped through the snow. "It's my dad's car!" he exclaimed, placing a hand on the hood. The horn beeped in greeting as the doors flew open.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Hermione smiled.

She, Blaise, and Draco worked together to lift Harry carefully out of the snow, carrying him towards their mechanical savior. Somehow, they all managed to pile into the car, all eight of them, with Harry laid out on the laps of the four in the back. Ryou sat on Malik's lap in the front passenger seat, Ron in the driver's seat. The doors closed with a rusty moan and the enchanted car began rolling through the Forest, heading towards Hogwarts.

---

The first thing Harry was aware of as he came to was the dull throbbing in his side. He opened his eyes to stare, blurry-eyed, at the ceiling. He was in the hospital wing, he realized. The room was dusted blue with nighttime, the moon shining brightly through the large, arched windows. Everything was peacefully quiet.

Then, four words drifted, unbidden, into Harry's disoriented mind.

_I love you, Draco_.

Had he really thought that? Yes, he had. He remembered, it had been the last thing on his mind before he'd passed out. In the Forbidden Forest. And … he was at Hogwarts?

He sat up, ignoring the pang that seared through his midriff. Looking around, he found the dull outline of the nightstand and reached over to blindly search for his glasses. Before he'd had a chance to find them, though, they were pushed into his hands. His fingers brushed against someone else's as he took his glasses. He put them on and blinked. The first thing his eyes met as his vision swam back into focus was a pair of metallic irises, bright with a swirl of emotions Harry couldn't identify. But, the emotions disappeared quickly and were replaced by an iron wall.

"So," came the all-too-familiar, apathetic drawl, "you're alive, after all. I should have known a bloody unicorn couldn't kill you, however hard I'd hoped it would."

"Shut-up, Malfoy," Harry growled tiredly, running a hand through his unruly hair. "What happened?" he asked.

"Get one of your Gryffindor mates to explain. I'm late for dinner." Draco stood to leave, but Harry reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Wait, don't go," Harry begged.

Draco turned to the raven-haired boy, his delicate features painted with surprise. "What?"

"I mean … I want to know what happened. How'd we get back here? Are the others okay?" He began bombarding Draco with questions in an attempt to cover up his earlier plea.

"Uh …" Draco was very aware of the fact that Harry was still gripping his wrist. He wrenched it out of the other's grasp and sat back down in the chair beside Harry's bed, suddenly feeling too weary to keep up his façade. He sighed. "The others are fine, Weasel's car brought us back—"

"His … car?"

"Yeah, that enchanted one that nearly got you two expelled in second year."

Harry grinned at the memory. "Oh, that one."

They were silent for a moment, before Harry said, "Thank you."

Draco started. "… What?"

"Thank you," Harry said again, still with an awkward air.

"For …?"

"For … saving me."

"Hmph." Draco averted his eyes. "I didn't save you. It was the Mudblood and that Egyptian bloke that saved you. I just brought you back to the others."

"You shocked me," Harry said. "I would've expected you to just leave me there, you know."

"Yeah, and then _I_ would've been the downfall of the Wizarding World, leaving the Boy-Who-Lived to die," Draco tried to reason.

"So your motives were entirely selfish?"

"Entirely."

"I don't believe you."

"Suit yourself."

"…" Harry scowled at the blonde. He heaved a heavy sigh before asking, "Well, what's the date?"

"Uh … it's the twentieth."

"Huh, that means that we have vacation coming up soon."

"Yeah, in three days."

"… Are you staying at school?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious."

"… Yes, actually, I am. … You?"

"Where else would I go?"

"I don't know, back to that Muggle family you stay with over the summer—"

"The Dursleys!" Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Please, I'd rather serve detention with Snape than go back there."

"Why?"

"Why? Because they're horrible, magick-hating monsters. My bedroom was the cupboard under the stairs until I was eleven."

"Your room was a cupboard?"

"Yup. And that was only half of the torture they put me through. I hate them." Harry sat back against his pillows, folding his arms across his chest.

"And here I thought there was no one you would hate more than me."

"Who says I hate them more? At least I don't have to put up with them on a daily basis."

"…"

Harry sighed. "Well … perhaps I don't hate you as much as I let on."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Hn," Harry grunted. "I don't think you hate me as much as you let on, either. You did, after all, save me."

"I didn't—"

"Stop denying it."

"…"

"And …" Harry looked up to meet Draco's gaze, "I think you … were worried about me, too."

Draco blushed, though it was hidden by the darkness of the room. "I was not."

"You were too. You were crying."

"No. I. Wasn't! You were imagining things—"

"I think you really do care about me," Harry teased, half-joking.

But Draco wasn't finding it very amusing. "Shut-up!" He jumped to his feet. "I do not … I don't … I didn't … rrgh, dammit Potter!"

Harry sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "Malfoy, hey, I was only kidding—"

"It's not a joke!" Draco growled.

"What's not?" Harry frowned, confused.

"You are so bloody clueless!" Draco accused.

"Clueless? About what? Malfoy, what are you talking—"

Draco stormed over to the door.

"Malfoy, wait!" Harry winced as he stood. The blonde ignored him, pulling open the one of the double doors and slipping into the torch-lit, abandoned corridor. He'd barely gotten five paces down the hallway when Harry called to him again.

"Leave me alone, Potter!" Draco warned, not turning around.

"Malfoy, I—_nnng!_" Harry groaned, falling to his knees and clutching his side. "Dammit." He felt lightheaded suddenly and began to sway before falling sideways.

Draco froze. Why had Harry stopped calling? What was that sound …? He turned to see the Gryffindor collapsed in front of the doors. "Potter, you idiot." He tromped back over to the fallen teen and, kneeling beside him, shook him gently. "Oy, Potter," he murmured.

"Mmm," Harry groaned wearily.

"You shouldn't have gotten out of bed," Draco scolded softly. He picked the boy up and carried him back into the room, bridal-style, and put him back on the hospital cot. He turned to go, but again he was stopped by a hand on his wrist, the grip weaker this time. He sighed. "What is it, Potter?"

"Please don't go."

"Potter, you're delirious. Go back to sleep—"

"No, I'm not. I want you to stay here."

Draco looked over his shoulder to see Harry watching him, his eyes beseeching. The Slytherin sighed again. "Fine." He sat down in the chair beside Harry's bed.

"Hey, Malfoy."

"What?"

"Why is it that you were the only one here when I woke up?"

"…"

"Malfoy?"

"Uh …"

"You really do care about me, don't you?"

"I …" Draco met Harry's gaze, his emerald eyes pleading with the blonde to tell him the truth, as if he'd be crushed if Draco lied to him. "… … Yes, I do. I do care about you." Draco felt his eyes begin to sting with unbidden tears. "Dammit, I _love_ you."

Before he could register what he was doing, Draco leaned down and pressed his lips against Harry's. Everything froze inside of him, and he felt suddenly very cold, knowing that he'd just made what was probably the biggest mistake of his life. He waited to be pushed, to be punched, to be yelled at and told off, but nothing of the sort happened. In fact, Draco received quite the opposite reaction.

Harry kissed him back.

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Yeah, this chapter was kinda short, but I'm trying to get them longer again. And I wanted to update really badly, sooo … yeah. Anyway, what didya think? REVIEW! And, of course, **TBC**. There's still a bit left to go!

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	15. A Happy Segue

**Of Wizards and Duelists …**

_XO'MagickMoon'OX_

**A/N: **…I AM SOOOOO SORRY! OMG, I haven't updated this in AGES! I apologize. I seem to be lacking motivation lately, as far as this story goes. But, thanks to **Faith Moon and Jade Sun**, I finally got off my lazy ass and wrote this chapter. I'm VERY SORRY for the shortness of it, but I'm trying to get back into this story, seeing so I haven't worked on it for so long. Once I get back into it, all the good stuff e'll start happening, and if anyone has any ideas, feel free to share them!

All right, well, to recap: _Yuugi, Ryou, Malik, Hermione, Harry, Ron, Blaise, and Draco were rescued from the Forbidden Forest by Ron's dad's enchanted car—random, huh?—and brought back to the school. Harry was immediately whisked away to the Hospital Wing for treatment of his unicorn-induced wound, and awoke that night to see none other than Draco sitting beside his bed. A love confession ensues, and Draco kisses Harry—and… Harry kisses back? O.O. _

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Draco fell back into his chair and stared dazedly at Harry, who was struggling to sit up in his hospital bed. Harry looked away abashedly.

Draco said, "You know you just—"

"I know."

"With me—"

"I _know_."

"And you…you…"

"I KNOW! Jesus, Malfoy. Stop making such a big deal out of it."

Draco's eyes widened. "Stop making a big…_Potter! _God, do you know how long I've _wanted _to do that?"

Harry started, turning to look at the blonde. "Uh…"

"Since the day I bloody met you, you git!"

Emerald eyes widened behind round lenses, blinking numbly.

Draco recoiled, the darkness of the room hiding his blush. "Well…okay, so maybe that's a slight exaggeration…but…!" The Slytherin stood and began pacing in front of his chair.

Harry was slowly beginning to put the pieces together in his head. "Well, then…why…why have we been enemies…all this time?"

Silver narrowed into an icy glare. "Don't you remember? I offered to be your friend and you turned me down!"

Harry was silent for a moment before he said, "Are you…serious?" A grin broke out across his face, followed soon by uncontrollable laughter.

"What's so goddamn funny?" Draco snapped, pausing in his nervous pacing to stare at the hysterical raven-haired boy.

Harry's laughter quelled to quiet giggles as he caught the scowl on Draco's face. "It's just…all this time…you were holding a grudge!"

"It wasn't only that!" the other growled. "It really hurt me when you turned down my friendship. I was eleven years old; I didn't know what I was feeling! I didn't know I would grow up to…to fall in love with you!"

Harry's smile melted at that, and he watched Draco curiously. "You… You really…"

"Love you?"

Harry nodded tentatively and looked down at his lap. The next thing he knew, however, there was a hand on his chin, slender fingers coaxing his gaze upwards. Then there was a pair of warm lips against his own and a lithe form pressing him into the bed, being wary of his healing wound. Harry slid down against the pillows, allowing Draco to recapture his lips again and again in a series of searing kisses, his tongue probing its way into the Gryffindor's mouth and painstakingly tasting it. Harry sighed at whatever chance he got, sincerely enjoying the attention the blonde was giving him. He had the fleeting sensation of just pushing the last piece of a puzzle into place, completing a jigsaw of a beautiful, _beautiful _picture.

Finally, feeling lightheaded, he forced Draco away. Draco propped his elbows on either side of the raven-haired boy, looking down at Harry. Harry smiled amusedly. Draco looked really…cute, with the faint blush staining his cheeks and the bridge of aristocratic nose. But combine flushed _and _breathless _and _just the slightest bit hungry-looking, and Harry would amend himself and say that the blonde was downright sexy. That was one thought the Gryffindor used to be sure would never cross his mind, not even if Voldemort were holding him at wand-point and ordering him to proclaim that Draco Malfoy was the sexiest sexy being to ever grace the Earth. Harry laughed at his wandering, completely ridiculous thoughts and reached up to brush a skewed lock of blonde hair out of Draco's face, eliciting a small smile from the Slytherin.

Draco collapsed beside the other, draping an arm across Harry's chest and nuzzling his nose against the curve between neck and shoulder. All was quiet and still, and Harry idly noticed that the shadows had shifted a little with, presumably, the progression of the moon through the night sky.

Then, he spoke. "So, what do we do now?"

He felt Draco shrug. "I don't know. I don't want to worry about it right now."

Harry chuckled. "What about dinner?"

"'M not hungry," Draco grumbled. Just then, his stomach growled in protest. Draco scowled. "It's lying," he said, reiterating, "'m not hungry."

"Whatever, Malfoy."

"Draco."

Harry blinked. "Pardon?"

"My name. It's not 'Malfoy', from now on."

"…Right." Harry smiled. "Well then, you should know that my name from now on isn't 'Potter'."

"Yeah, I know. ……Harry?" The name felt awkward on his tongue.

"Hm?"

"What are we going to do?"

"I thought you didn't want to worry about it now."

"Well, now I want to worry about it."

This time, Draco felt Harry shrug. "I…don't know. I guess we should just…keep everything quiet for now…and work things out…between us before we go and…tell…erm…people…" he said uneasily, the thought of people finding out greatly disturbing him. What would they think? What would they say? It wasn't only that the two were longtime enemies that would probably bother people, but they were both _guys_, too, and he was sure that there would be people that—

"Harry."

"What?"

"I'm hungry."

"Then go eat, you idiot."

"But I don't want to leave you…" _I mean really, I finally­—_finally!_—have you. After all these bloody years… I don't want to go yet… I don't want to go ever… I want to stay here…with you… _Draco closed his eyes, sighing.

"Draco…" Harry said, a note of warning in his voice. "Go on, you need to eat, and I need to rest."

Draco muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, but nonetheless rose from the bed and stood beside it. For a moment, he looked down at the raven-haired boy admiringly, with a vague sense of incredulity gracing his pretty features.

"I still can't believe it…" he murmured.

"Believe…what…?"

"That…" Draco sighed, finding himself unable to voice his feelings. How, exactly, did one explain a half-decade of longing suddenly disrupted by a strange sense of fulfillment? How did one describe that sensation, that sensation of being complete, yet terribly afraid that it was all some extraordinary, skewed dream?

The blonde shook his head, and instead leaned down and pressed a parting kiss to Harry's mouth, deciding that the soft, supple lips beneath his own were no fantasy. They were totally and completely real. Harry…liked him back. There was a chance for them. As Draco pulled away, he schooled his expression into one of composed contentment, and only after departing to the corridor did he let out a repressed breath and hold his hands above his head. His small smile grew into a grin, which rumbled with soft laughter, which erupted into full-blown hysterics as he jumped, and then ran down the empty corridor, letting his feet do what his heart was feeling: freedom, energy, bliss, all released from the stone wall that had been constructed around his heart for the past five or so years.

Harry listened to Draco's laughter recede down the hallway and smiled. Hermione would never let him hear the end of this.

---

"A_-choo!_"

Bakura winced as Ryou sneezed…again. "Yadonushi, I think you have a cold."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Ryou answered with the faintest hint of sarcasm, flopping back down against his pillows and pulling the covers up to his chin, resolutely turning his back to the spirit. Bakura sighed, frowning. He briefly remembered the days when Ryou wouldn't dare use such a tone with him, and felt a certain longing for those days. Not because he preferred the way Ryou used to be over the subtly changed Ryou now, but because back then Bakura had been oblivious to his emotions. He had been oblivious to his feelings, and therein impervious to the heartache that accompanied them. Things weren't so simple now. Bakura sighed again.

"I'm going for a walk," he announced.

"Have fun," came the dry reply. Bakura set his jaw as he departed (literally) through the door, drifting down the spiral staircase and to the common room, where he left from to wander the corridors.

He found himself drifting, both mentally and physically (despite his obvious lack of physical form). Glancing up as he felt an almost imperceptible chill waft through his spectral body, he met the cold, uninviting face of the Potions' room door. Deciding this was a good a place as any to brood, he phased through the metal, only to walk…or _float_…in on none other than Professors Snape and Dumbledore. They were leaning over a cauldron, each seemingly deep in thought, exchanging a word or two every other moment.

_Odd,_ Bakura thought. "What are these old geezers doing here, and so late, at that?" he said aloud, though no one present could hear him.

Or so he thought.

"You're one to talk about age, being over one thousand years old."

Bakura spun, seeing Atemu behind him. "Wh-What are you…?" he sputtered.

"…Doing here?" Atemu offered. Bakura nodded. "Looking for you. You've seemed rather out of sorts since we arrived back at the school. I hate to admit it, but you're starting to worry me."

Bakura bit his lip, averting his gaze. "It's just…it's hard…" he said. "Ryou's…very unhappy with me."

"When is he not?"

"But it's never been like this. I really feel…horrible about it all. It _was _all my fault, after all."

"No arguments here."

"Thanks for the support, _friend_," Bakura deadpanned.

Atemu shrugged. "Any time."

Bakura growled. Then, he said, "He's sick."

"Who?"

"Ryou. He has a cold."

"Well, who wouldn't after an escapade like what he just went through? I'm surprised he's the _only _one who's fallen ill."

Bakura nodded.

"…so if we add _angelica_ and some _balm of Gilead_, we should be able to exorcise and manifest—"

Dumbledore held up his hand to silence the Potions Master. The wise old wizard nodded wordlessly and whispered, "I don't think we're alone."

Snape's stony eyes swept through the seemingly empty chamber and nodded, continuing to silently add ingredients to the bubbling cauldron. Atemu and Bakura exchanged wondering glances.

"I have the feeling we're not welcome," Atemu murmured.

"Same here. Let's go. I want to see if Ryou might need anything, anyway."

The spirits departed without another word. Bakura slipped into Ryou's room and, seeing him curled up on his bed beside Malik—both apparently asleep—sighed and slipped silently into the Ring, which was hanging around the white-haired boy's neck. He never took it off.

---

Tuesday morning rolled around. The eight students were feeling a little out of it. Ryou was still bedridden with a terrible cold, Harry was almost completely healed, and everyone else was just exhausted. This didn't keep Hermione out of class, though, and she pulled Ron and Yuugi along with her. Malik needed no force to get him to attend, but his mind wasn't able to focus properly on his work, what with Ryou sick and all. Draco and Blaise, though Blaise protested wholeheartedly, went to class. It wasn't much of an issue for Draco, though; nothing could dampen his spirits.

"C'mon, Zabini! Jesus, you're slow." Draco was practically skipping down the hallway to Potions, thoroughly disturbing his friends.

"Someone OD'd on Happy Potion," Pansy drawled. Crabbe and Goyle snickered, but Blaise gripped Draco's wrist and pulled the blonde to the side outside of the Potions room.

"What the bloody hell has gotten into you?" he hissed. "You get shagged last night, or _what?_"

Draco held his finger up to his lips, grinning like an idiot. "Shhhh, it's a secret." And then, he giggled. Blaise gaped. Draco Malfoy was _giggling_.

"It's Potter, isn't it." It wasn't a question. Blaise then knew for sure what was wrong with his friend as Draco flushed happily. "What happened?"

"He lik—"

Blaise clamped his hand over Draco's mouth, looking around nervously. "Not so loud, you moron!"

Draco nodded, dropping his voice several (hundred) decibels. "He _likes _me!" Draco whispered.

Blaise froze. "Come again?"

"He likes me back!" Draco repeated, even quieter this time, his smile never faltering.

"Are you serious?" Blaise couldn't help but grin. "That's wonderful!"

"Isn't it?" Draco spread his arms and spun in a lazy circle.

"Who else knows?" Blaise asked.

Draco turned back to his friend. "No one, and we want to keep it that way, for now."

The brunette nodded dutifully. "Of course."

"Malfoy! Zabini!" Pansy called. "Get your arses over here!" The students were filing into class.

The boys joined the group. Blaise scanned the crowd, saying, "Speaking of Potter, where is the git?"

"Still recovering," Draco replied.

"Ah, I see."

"Come _on_, Ron! I swear, you are going to be the death of me."

A very flustered Hermione stumbled into class just as Snape shut the doors, Ron and Yuugi in tow. Hermione glanced over at Blaise and Draco as she passed, and the three traded almost imperceptible smiles of greeting. Yes, things would be very different from now on, and the future looked…bright, for once.

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**A/N: **Well? Review, and fuel my motivation! I need ENCOURAGEMENT! I need SUGGESTIONS! REVIEW! Or pay the piper and wait another two months for the next update. –**sighs**- I really hope I find my motivation again; I really like this story, and can't wait to get to the good parts!

**TBC**

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